Holden
by cherryredchucks
Summary: AU Futurefic: The story of Rory's seventeen year old daughter and the father she never knew
1. The Warmth

I can still remember the day in kindergarten when it all started. It had begun normally enough. It was my first day and mom had walked me in. The teacher thought she was my big sister. That happened a lot. So my mother picked me up and gave me a hug, made me promise to come back to her and not run away to join the circus, and left. The first thing the teacher had asked was that we draw a picture of our families. Simple enough, I'm sure she thought. But as I carefully chose my crayons and drew the picture, I noticed that a lot of the other kids had three figures instead of two. So I drew in a cat. Might as well keep things easy enough, even if I didn't always think that Johnny Ramone was that big a part of the family, since he liked to sleep on our window ledge outside. But the teacher (obviously it was her new day) reminded me to draw in my daddy. I remember the exact look on her face when I replied simply that I didn't have one. I'd be getting it for many more years.  
  
In junior high, my name became a bigger source of ridicule. Everyone seemed to get a kick out of pointing out that my name was supposed to belong to a guy. On the first day every year, the teacher would invariably accuse me of trying to be funny and to please put my hand down so the boy whose name was Holden could raise his hand. So then I'd have to stand up and say "No, that's me. I'm Holden Gilmore. I'm Lorelai Holden Maylie Gilmore, but I go by Holden since Lorelai is my grandmother and Rory is my mother, and there really weren't any good nicknames left." Then I'd shrug my shoulders and sit down. And the teacher would look at me curiously and let it go. But the other kids wouldn't. Especially not after they finally got old enough to read "Catcher In The Rye". Suddenly my name's true origin was revealed and the jokes and cracks only got worse from there. But for some reason, I found a strange comfort in my namesake. But one time, when I was ten years old, I made the mistake of asking my mom about it. I remember going into the living room. Mom was playing The Cure while I did my homework and she looked over some papers for work. She had a big cup of coffee steaming lightly at her side while she say curled up on the plush red couch.  
  
"Mom, why did you have to give me this stupid name? All the kids at school make fun of me!"  
  
She looked at me kind of sadly and I immediately regretted my inquisition.  
  
"Your father," she seemed to get a far-off look before coming back to reality and hugging me close. She whispered softly, like she would break if her voice were any louder. "He always reminded me of Holden. And you, Lorelai Holden Maylie Gilmore, are my little part of him." 


	2. I'd like to close my eyes and go numb

We didn't go to my mother's hometown much. Every once in a while, the mood would strike her (or Lorelai would threaten to) and I'd find myself being packed into the car for a weekend with the grandparents. And if I complained, she'd threaten to take out the Bay City Rollers CD and put in her old Celine Dion tape. That shut me up fast. It wasn't that I hated Stars Hollow. Quite the opposite really. It was a simple town and while it could be boring, there was never a lack of people to talk to. Lorelai was always talking and Luke was around the house or diner somewhere trying to hide the coffee so she'd stop. But she never did. And she always found it. But I hated instead, the memories of it. When I was fourteen, I had taken to wandering around and one night, after I hadn't come back, mom had gone out to look for me. I couldn't decide if she was more scared that she'd lost me or sad at where she'd found me.  
  
"Holden, what are you doing out here?" Her big blue eyes couldn't hide emotions even if they wanted to. Her fear for me was plainly written on the surface of the pools of blue, but a fear that I knew had nothing to do with me was visible deeper within, even in the dimming afternoon light.  
  
"Walking around, thinking," I said simply and continued looking forward.  
  
"Oh." She had taken my silence for anger, which wasn't true. I could never be mad at my mom. She was just too nice. You dislike her for more than twenty minutes. If you could make it that long.  
  
"Besides, I like it here." I tried to elaborate so she wouldn't feel hurt. But for some reason, my response only seemed to make her pain worse.  
  
"Yes," she said quietly, running her fingers lightly over the worn wood as she sat next to me on the edge. "I loved to come here when I lived here."  
  
"It's a nice bridge." I sounded pathetic, but I was trying desperately to make my mom feel better. But all that I said never seemed to help. I leaned against her and she stroked my hair softly as we sat and stared at the water.  
  
"Your father liked it here too." But I didn't respond. I knew how much it hurt my mom to mention my dad.  
  
While making cookies with Lorelai once (and by make I mean that we pretended we were 50's housewives and we stuck store-bought cookies in the microwave to heat them up, then stuck them on a pan and pretended they were fresh out of the oven) I finally asked her about him.  
  
"Lorelai, what happened to my dad?"  
  
"Well," she smiled a little "Don't worry about the bush. It really doesn't need to be beaten around." I grinned a little but knew that this humor was just to give her a chance to catch her thoughts.  
  
"Well," she seemed to be bracing herself mentally. "When your mother was younger, she was considered the princess of this town. It was like she was everyone's daughter and everyone's sister. She was the brilliant kid who went to the big fancy private school in Hartford but never turned snobby. And she was nice, the nicest person you'd meet. So no one was shocked when she befriended the town rebel. After all, she was friends with anyone. But they were shocked at how close the two were. They shared a love of literature and had the same sense of humor. But more than that, they seemed to know each other. Really understand. And so Rory started a relationship with him. The rebel had come from a hard life, but your mother never pushed him. She never forced him to open up to her; she just loved him as much as her young heart could." Lorelai stopped for a moment and got a look in her eyes that I'd never seen before. It was an unusual expression and only later did I understand truly what it was.  
  
"Lorelai," I said softly. "You don't have to finish the-"  
  
"No." she interrupted and looked at me with a mix of determination and sympathy. "You need to hear this. Well, before long the whole town was buzzing with rumors because your mother had done what no one had ever expected of her. She wasn't in the perfect storybook relationship anymore, but now was in love with the boy that no one wanted her to love." Lorelai chuckled a bit "Not even me. Well, not at first. But eventually I learned that if Rory loved him, then there must have been a reason why. And I saw it. Eventually. Anyway, one day I came home to find Rory in her room crying. After some coffee and a lot of hugs she told me that she was late. And I, unwilling to accept the idea that my perfect daughter had committed my mistake, told her to get a move on and she could make it in time." Lorelai smiled sadly at me and I wanted to scream at her to stop. It was like maybe if I didn't let her finish the story, then maybe it would never have happened. But I heard the ticking of the clock in the kitchen and felt the cold glass of milk in my hand and remembered that it had happened, whether Lorelai finished the story or not.  
  
"The town was angry. Angry with the rebel for destroying their perfect little girl. Angry at his uncle for not keeping him in line and allowing him to do this to her. Angry at me for my poor example and for not raising her right. Never blaming Rory. But she stood up for the rebel, the uncle, and me telling everyone straightforward that it was just as much her fault as anyone else's. So the town accepted that Rory had made a mistake. Sainted Rory was to suffer the same fate as her mother. But she had help from me and her true friends, the ones who stood by her, and nine months later, a beautiful little girl became Lorelai the fourth." She smiled at me and put her hand on mine comfortingly. I smiled back as best I could but a part of me was still unanswered.  
  
"So why did my dad leave?" Lorelai sighed and ran her fingers through her dark brown hair.  
  
"He was scared. It was a summer night, a few weeks after you were born. He left only a letter to Rory and a little money. I found it in her room a few weeks after his departure. He said that he loved you too much to be your father. He said he was too screwed up and too bad a person to raise a child. And he thought he wasn't worthy to be your father That if he stayed, he'd damage you forever just like he was damaged. I'll never forget one line he said. He wrote that you were as perfect as a china doll and he was so scared to break you that it was better to just leave your life than risk it."  
  
"So he left because of me" My chest ached with a dull pain as I admitted it to myself. I had caused my mother all this pain. I had been the reason that my mother wasn't ever truly happy.  
  
"No." Lorelai said firmly. "He left because he loved you." 


	3. but there's a cold wind coming

"Don't let the world bring you down. Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold." ~ Incubus  
  
It wasn't uncommon for me to come home to an empty apartment. The door would shut behind me with an echo through the empty rooms and I'd toss my backpack to the side, playing the messages as I un-tucked my uniform shirt from the plaid skirt and busied myself in the kitchen with snacks.  
  
"Rory, it's Paris. Debbie Nelson just backed out of the meeting for Friday. I called her to get her to come in but she just kept bringing up that she gave birth to twins on Monday. She's being a slacker and I need you to help me pull this meeting in to shape fast. Call me back when you get this. Oh, and hi Holden." Paris usually called mom at least once a week with a crisis. Paris knew she could handle anything and everything that life tossed her, but I'd figured out quickly that she just liked having my mom there and a "damage control team" was equivalent to a friendship in her book. And she seemed to like talking to me, though she'd tried to get me to read Austen when I was going through my Kerouac phase. Said it was for my own good.  
  
"Rory, it's Adam. We need your column by two pm tomorrow. Don't forget or else we're all done for. And I thought you said you'd change your answering machine message." Adam Brenson was one of mom's co-workers. A thin man with a hairline that had receded with his sense of humor into complete nothingness. I remember the first time I met him I called him Mr. Rogers because of his sweater vest. It took mom a full five minutes to stop laughing. He never got mom's jokes and certainly never appreciated it when we changed our answering machine messages. This current one featured mom and I singing loudly that we weren't home to the mentos theme song.  
  
"RORY! HOLDEN! IT'S LORELAI! Ah I can feel your smiles from here! So you're out living your lives, having fun, forgetting all about the sweet kind beautiful goddess who birthed you.that was meant for Rory, and not Holden. Cause that'd be wrong. Anyway, calling to remind you that my birthday is coming up! That's right; Lorelai Victoria Gilmore is turning FIFTY! FIFTY! I'M FIFTY! Or at least I will be in a week. And you know what that means! No it does NOT mean I'm old, so you CAN NOT CALL ME GRANDMA! Grandma means Emily Gilmore and BECAUSE I KNOW YOU LOVE ME you will not refer to me as Grandma. Instead, it means BIG PRESENTS! But that is a given no matter what. In fact, there should ALWAYS be big presents. Not just for my birthday either I-" The answering machine beeped signifying that her message had gotten too long. That happened a lot when Lorelai left messages. But she always called back.  
  
"Damn technology is revolting against me! I'm telling you one of these days the microwave and the alarm clock will get together with the toaster and start a mutiny against me! You think I'm kidding, but we'll see who's laughing when you wake up in the night to all the blender making attempts at your life. Why does the stupid thing cut out anyway? I know! You've trained it to! I'm hurt and rejected by your works against me. Yet I am also flattered because I have taught you well. Anyway, you better be coming back to Star's Hollow this Friday because I'm turning FIFTY damn it and I want PRESENTS!" At this time I heard Luke talking in the background. The words "No" "Coffee" and "Asylum" were all detectable but the rest was muffled. "Well kids, Luke's gotten into trouble again. I'm off like a dirty shirt! Talk to you later!" I smiled to myself. Lorelai's messages always made my day. By five o'clock dinner was cooking and I was more than halfway through my latest book ("The Light In The Forest" by Conrad Richter) when mom finally made her entrance. She was carrying all of her books and also trying to balance a hot cup of coffee. Her hair was falling out of its bun and she was trying to push it out of her eyes without losing any coffee. This proved to be a difficult task but it was amusing to watch.  
  
"Holden! Sweetie! Mommy's home!" I didn't even have to look up as I heard all the papers flutter to the floor and mom's high heels go flying across the living room. "Tell me about your day!" she called from the bedroom as she changed into her after work clothes.  
  
"Met up with a tattoo artist on east 42nd avenue. The name "Road Dawg" is now forever engrained on my left cheek. And I don't mean my face!" I could almost hear her smile from the bedroom. She reappeared momentarily in a T- shirt and jeans and the grin I was expecting.  
  
"Sweetie, how many times have I told you that east 42nd street tattoo artists are outrageously overpriced!"  
  
"I don't know. Guess the smart genes skipped a generation." Mom grabbed the pot of coffee I'd brewed earlier and poured two mugs. She kissed my cheek quickly before grabbing plates and scooping out some of the pasta and meat sauce I'd made.  
  
"Mmm I love your pasta! You are officially my favorite daughter!" She made no effort to wipe the red sauce off her lip even after I handed her a napkin.  
  
"Thank god, because the competition between me and the third imaginary one was getting brutal." I smirked and took a bite myself. "Oh, mom, Lorelai called. Call her back before she tells the toasters to attack."  
  
"Another long message?"  
  
"Are there any other kinds?" After mom re-played the message about three times she plopped down on the couch with an ungraceful thud and proceeded to talk to Lorelai for at least an hour. In the end, she knocked softly on my door with a smile and told me to clear all my weekend plans because we were headed to Star's Hollow. For a week. This was going to be interesting. 


	4. from the top of the highest high rise to...

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews!  
  
Sometimes my mom reacts really weird to things I do. I didn't always get it but eventually I figured out that every once in a while; I do something like my dad must have done. Every times she sees me smirk, there's this flash of emotion in her eyes. I thought at first it was hate. I mean, my dad left my mom and me, why wouldn't she hate him? But it wasn't hate. So I thought it must be fear that she was scared I was growing up to be like him. But it wasn't fear. So eventually I decided it was just a little flash of realization. I had done something that reminded her of him and she would realize that I was a little part of him. So I see that little flash when I smirk, when I was at the bridge, when I refuse to go to sleep because I just want to read, when I blast "Suffragette City" by David Bowie from my room. And a part of me knows that it kills my mom to see him in me. I know how much it hurts to see me develop his habits. And I wish to god that I wasn't. But I am.  
  
I think that Stars Hollow would look the same a thousand years from now as it does today. Lorelai is still convinced that someday we'll all have flying cars like the Jetsons and that the machines are slowly taking over. I think that no matter what, Stars Hollow will always look like it does today. The leaves are turning from their fresh green into a mature orange- gold hue. The perfectly manicured lawn around the gazebo looks lush and I make a mental note to stretch out there as soon as possible. I lean my head against the cool glass of the passenger seat window as mom drives down the main street. A woman with flaming red hair in a bright purple coat escorted her daughter across the street in a matching coat. Ugh. Matching outfits. I was almost sure that there was a room in hell for people who did that to their children. As we drove past the high school, I watched the students still relaxing around the large stone building. A letterman jock tossed a football to an almost identical letterman jock as a blonde girl in a Felix the Cat shirt waved to her passing friends. No matter what, the school would always look the same.  
  
Mom pulled into Lorelai's driveway as we saw the woman herself come leaping out the front door, racing across the lawn to grab mom into a hug and then pull me in for one too. After a few minutes hugging and giggling (by this time we had toppled over onto the soft grass) we headed into the kitchen where Lorelai made me chug three cups of coffee just to make sure that Rory was keeping my coffee tolerance level at a high. By the time Luke came home we were all a little hyper from the caffeine and I could almost see him plotting his escape. But eventually (after a John Cusack movie marathon), mom and I headed to mom's old room for bed while Luke and Lorelai stayed up to watch the news (or rather, Luke watched the news while Lorelai commented on the newscasters' hairdo's). After tossing back and forth uncomfortably for about a half an hour, I padded out softly to the kitchen.  
  
"Why were you so quiet tonight, Lukey? I know you're monosyllabic man and you're proud of your title, but there is no competition here and you could have joined the rest of the world in multiple syllables."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me they were coming?" Luke's hushed voice unintentionally echoed off the plastered walls. I closed mom's door and leaned nearer to the doorway.  
  
"Would you shush? They'll hear you!"  
  
"Rory got your sleeping habits, which means that she could sleep through the second coming and I think that it's safe to assume that Holden is the same. Now why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"I didn't think it'd be a big deal."  
  
"Obviously not. You've also obviously forgotten what is happening this week."  
  
"Well, Taylor hasn't had any flyers up so there can't be any dance marathons or bid-a-baskets and it's way too early for his revolutionary war re-enactment...."  
  
"Would you please focus for one moment and try to remember WHO is supposed to come this week?" There was a moment of silence before I could hear Lorelai's sharp intake of breath and the volume of the TV go down.  
  
"But..oh god no. If he shows up, she'll never come back again. And I can't lose her Luke!" I ventured a peek around the corner. Luke was holding Lorelai on the couch. My cup of coffee long forgotten I slid down the cool plaster wall out of their view.  
  
"I know, but he's coming. And maybe.maybe Holden should meet him. She's almost eighteen you know. It might be good for her to finally meet her father." My eyes widened and I clamped my hand over my mouth before I could make a noise. My father was going to be here?!  
  
"But Luke, I don't want her to. What if he hurts her? You saw what he did to her mother." Instinctively, I looked to the closed door where my mother lay sleeping. He had hurt her a lot by leaving. But he'd hurt us even more by staying gone.  
  
"I know Lorelai, but there's nothing we can do. He's coming in on the two thirty bus tomorrow and is expecting the room over the diner." The cold plaster seemed to keep me in reality. My dad was coming here. I felt the wall for support as I quietly stood up again and headed back to bed. Tomorrow, my father would be somewhere here in Stars Hollow. As I lay back in bed I noticed the moon light streaming across my mother's sleeping face. Thirty five years old but she still looked sixteen, with her light brown hair splayed over her cheek and her face in a peaceful expression; I leaned over and kissed her cheek softly before turning over. He'd hurt us badly before. How much worse damage could he do? 


	5. Its not a breeze cuz it blows hard

My mom doesn't keep very many pictures around. There are the obligatory embarrassing baby photos and a few of her with Lorelai and grandma. And of course there are some with me and her, matching grins on our faces. Mom also doesn't clean very much so one day during our tri-yearly cleaning of the apartment, I had been assigned closet duty. Mom inherited the uncanny ability to save every single thing possible just like Lorelai so I was not surprised then I found a ratty box marked "pictures". Figuring there might be some good blackmail material; I pulled it down from the shelf and began to go through. There were pictures of mom when she was younger, Lorelai as a teenager, Rory and Lorelai dressed in 1940's garb, mom in her Chilton uniform, Lorelai dancing madly, but then came the guys. There were pictures of mom with a taller boy, who looked like he probably wanted nothing more than a warm slice of apple pie and a glass of milk. There were a lot of pictures with him. But then the pictures stopped abruptly and a new boy came in. He was dark haired and dark eyed, a striking contrast to mom. But she smiled in those much wider than she did in the ones with apple pie boy. He was touching her in all of them. Hands held, arms around shoulders, arms around waist, head resting on shoulder, chin on shoulder, hands on faces, always in constant contact. As I went further and further into the box, mom came in. When I asked her about the pictures, her eyes widened and she put the photos back in the box and re-shelved it. I didn't ask about it again.  
  
"Holden! What the hell are you doing up?" Lorelai exclaimed loudly when she came down at seven in the morning to find me at the table with a cup of coffee and a copy of the newspaper. She was half-way through getting dressed for work. At least, I assumed she didn't always wear a crisp white Oxford blouse to bed with her pink poodle pajama bottoms  
  
"Um, I love you and wanted to make you coffee?" She greedily accepted a large mug of the Columbian elixir of life and inhaled deeply before draining it.  
  
"Mmm I will let your lack of laziness slide just this once for good coffee. How long have you been up?" She looked over my jeans and t-shirt with flip- flops and cocked an eyebrow. "Been out?"  
  
"Just to get the paper and get you pastries." I pointed to the bag of Danishes I had brought her from Luke's and she began to jump up and down and hug me.  
  
"You're my favorite Mini-Me!"  
  
"I thought that was mom."  
  
"Well," she bit into the soft dough and made a muffled squeak of joy. "She didn't bring Danishes." I returned to reading while she headed back to her room to finish getting ready, singing a song about Danish to the tune of "Walk Like An Egyptian". As she left, I pulled out the bus schedule I'd picked up in my early morning travels. I carefully circled the 2:30 bus with my pencil and folded the paper neatly before sticking it in my jean pocket. Well, today was going to be interesting, that's for sure.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I had to hand it to Lorelai. By 2:15 she was shoving mom off to the Inn to see Sookie and the kids. She tried to get me to come along, but when I shrugged it off for reading, she didn't seem too concerned. I guess she didn't think I'd ever consider hanging out at the bus stop. My book lay forgotten by 2:25 and I began to seriously consider making a run for it. I couldn't read when I was nervous. The familiar lines of Salinger held no meaning and looked like foreign symbols. By 2:30 I was convincing myself not to throw up. I looked down the empty street again, but then I heard it. My head felt light and I had to command myself not to be sick or bolt to the nearest hiding spot. The rumble of the engine was low and constant and I watched as the hulking bus squealed to a stop in front of me. I didn't even know why I was here. Certainly he would have aged and it had been a good three or four years since I'd seen the picture. And even if I did recognize him, what would I say? "Hi Jess, I'm Holden. Your daughter, you know the one you abandoned!" Yeah that's the perfect way to start a relationship. As the river of people began to trickle out, I watched.  
  
The first, a tall blonde woman stepped out before purposefully walking towards the center of town. Well, I think I could safely eliminate her from the list of prospects. A red-headed man got off next but I shrugged him off as well, since he looked to be about forty. That and also a petite brunette woman was calling him "honey" and dragging along their wailing toddler children. As more and more people left the bus, I felt my heart begin to contract in my chest. Maybe they had been wrong. Maybe Luke had gotten the dates wrong. I sighed irritably. What was I expecting? For him to get off the bus and me to say the perfect thing and for he, mom, and I to go skipping off into the sunset? I got the idea from the pictures that he wasn't one to skip. And really, I wasn't either. I grabbed my book impatiently and began to walk across the street before I heard the bus driver's raspy goaded voice yell out to someone in the back to quit reading and get off. I whirled around quickly and watched.  
  
My heart stopped in my chest when I saw him get off. He looked the same as the picture. The same brown eyes, the same dark hair, but there were different things about him. He looked older. I mentally kicked myself. Of course he looked older. It had been eighteen years since the picture was taken. But there was something else. He looked older, like he'd experienced more. He lifted the army bag over his shoulder, looked around Stars Hollow with a smirk and headed across the street to Luke's without even a glance in my direction. My heart had begun to beat again, this time with a rapidity I couldn't imagine it possessed. Before I knew it I found myself in front of Luke's with no recollection of how I'd gotten there. I didn't remember walking, or remember the monotonous rhythm my feet made as they hit the ground. All I could hear was the sound of my blood thudding in my ears and the racing whirlpool of my thoughts. Half finished unspoken thoughts of what to say, should I run? Do I talk to him? Do I head home? To I tell anyone? Is that really my father? I sat down shakily on the bench outside of Luke's and try to take a few deep breaths. Well, he obviously doesn't know who I am (and how would he? He's never seen me before). So why not go inside? Luke's is noisy with conversation and clinking plates and silverware but it all seems amplified. If I ever got drunk, I can imagine this is what a hangover would be like. The noise ricocheted around my head, each sound seeming like nails on a chalkboard. I sat numbly at the counter and waited for someone to offer me something. Luke was no where to be seen. Probably stepped out the back for an errand. I doubt he ever considered I'd come in here; much less know who the new waiter was.  
  
"What do you want?" He was looking at me expectantly with those deep brown eyes. My mouth opened and I had to control myself from telling him who I was. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Right, I still hadn't said anything.  
  
"Um coffee. Black. Please." Very good. Three real words. He sighed loudly and rolled his eyes as he turned his back to me. Way to go Holden. You've obviously made a killer first impression. I took my book again and began to read. Maybe I could just ignore him for the rest of the time here and I wouldn't make an even bigger fool of myself. But it figures that the first thing I read would be this:  
  
"The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody'd move .. Nobody'd be different. The only thing that would be different would be you."  
  
He put the steaming cup of coffee in front of me and tilted his head to read the title of my book. I could feel him studying me as well as the novel.  
  
"Huh," he stated simply. "Good book."  
  
I looked up hesitantly. I could just nod and end the conversation there or I could bait him into a talk with me. I knew I'd kick myself if I didn't.  
  
"Yes," I started slowly. "It's one of my favorites. Salinger is a genius."  
  
"No," he smirked. "Hemingway is a genius."  
  
"I always felt torn about Hemingway. A part of me loved the simplicity of his writing and his ability to say so much in so little but another part of me craved more."  
  
"You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food, he thought. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?" He relayed with a small smile. I smiled a little in spite of myself.  
  
" 'The Old Man and The Sea'." He filled my coffee cup with a smirk as congratulations, and turned his back. But I was too high on having actually held a conversation with him. My father and I.  
  
"I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stockyards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it. There were many words that you could not stand to hear and finally only the names of places had dignity" I paused here as I watched him turn back to me and then lean against the counter to enjoy the show. Pushed on by his silent encouragement I racked my brain for the rest. "Certain numbers were the same way and certain dates and these with the names of the places were all you could say and have them mean anything. Abstract words such as glory, honor, courage, or hallow were obscene beside the concrete names of villages, the numbers of roads, the names of rivers, the numbers of regiments and the dates." I finished with a small grin and he smirked.  
  
" 'A Farewell To Arms.'" I felt the rush of adrenaline die down and a sort of warmth spread over me. I had done it. I had earned his respect. All from Hemingway. "How old are you?"  
  
"Seventeen."  
  
"Pretty good memory you have there. At least for remembering the important stuff. What's your name?" My heart fell to the pit of my stomach. My name. Of course, he'd want to know who I was. But who could I say I was?  
  
"Jess!" Luke called suddenly. A flash of panic was evident in his eyes as he looked back from me to Jess and me again. "Would you go get some more packages of buns from the back?" His voice sounded calmer and I could tell he was already trying to figure out some way to explain to Lorelai that her seventeen year old granddaughter had been talking to her estranged father in the diner. Jess rolled his eyes and headed to the back without a look to me. Luke sighed quietly in relief and looked at me to see if I knew what had just happened. I had settled at returning to my book. Luke removed his baseball cap and ran his calloused hands through his thinning hair. "Uh, Holden, Rory should be back from the Inn if you want to go see her...."  
  
"Okay Luke." He looked relieved and had stopped looking over his shoulder "inconspicuously" to make sure Jess wouldn't be coming back. I slipped unobtrusively out of the diner and back into the bright sunlight. Maybe this afternoon had been a step into bringing my father back into my life. A small step, but a step nonetheless. 


	6. Yes and it wants me to discard the human...

Mom didn't wear very much jewelry. Sometimes she would wear simple diamond studs in her ears or maybe a nice necklace, but in general, she kept things simple. But all the time that I've known her I've never seen her without her ring. It's a simple thin silver band that she always wears on the ring finger of her right hand. The only time I know of that she takes it off is when she's in the shower. When I was five, I wandered into her bathroom while she was rushing around to get ready for something. I took the ring and examined it closely for the first time. There was an inscription on the inside of the band that puzzled me.  
  
"Mommy, who's Dodger?" Mom stopped short and turned quickly.  
  
"W-why do you ask, sweetie?" Her eyes were as wide as saucers as I held up the ring for her to see.  
  
"Well, it says here that you have all his love. Who is he?" Mom's face flashed an expression of pain and I could feel guilt settle over me for having opened my mouth. She took the ring from me and carefully put it on her finger. The she looked at me before pulling me close for a hug. I barely heard the words she murmured into my hair.  
  
"He's the one that got away...."  
  
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Dinner at the grandparents had actually been a relief to Lorelai. I wasn't surprised when the second that the barely audible, thankful sigh escaped her lips when Luke had quietly suggested it, her eyes widened and she mumbled almost silently "that's it, hell has just frozen over." Mom looked at them quizzically but didn't protest the drive to Hartford. After Angela ushered us in (Grandma had finally found a maid she liked and had kept her on for almost ten years), the barrage of questions were aimed and fired at mom and I. I was the one sighing with relief as we left and mom seemed to be glad to get out as well.  
  
"Hey mom, Luke, I have to stop by an office depot or something here in Hartford so I can fax something to work. Will you drive Holden home?"  
  
"What's wrong with Marty, our fax machine?" Lorelai looked absolutely stricken at the idea of anyone ignoring Marty. Luke rolled his eyes.  
  
" It's a lot of faxing and plus I'm going to pick up gourmet coffee. Now go!" I followed Luke and Lorelai back obediently and fell asleep almost as soon as the car was started. When I awoke I chanced a glance at my watch. We'd only been driving for a half an hour. Luke and Lorelai were talking in hushed tones, obviously in an attempt not to wake me. I kept my eyes closed but strained to hear them.  
  
"-and that's when I found them."  
  
"Geezes, Luke! Do you think she knew?"  
  
"Well, he had just asked her for her name and she hadn't responded yet. I think they don't know and maybe I can just keep them apart."  
  
"Luke, this is Stars Hollow. The likelihood of keeping two people away from each other especially when they seem to have a lot of the same tendencies, are very very slim." Lorelai sighed angrily and she leaned her head against the glass. Luke held his hand out to her and she took it gratefully. They stayed like that for the rest of the ride home.  
  
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I didn't sleep that night. I lay in bed beside my mother, thousands of thoughts racing through my head. My mother laid peacefully, a small smile on her lips as she dreamed. I wondered if she dreamed of him. The room suddenly felt too hot and I kicked the cotton sheets and blankets off me. I wasn't going to sleep. I accepted it and dressed quickly. Luke wasn't even up yet. It was still dark when I scrawled out a note for mom and Lorelai as the coffee brewed. Grabbing the cup, I left through the back door as quietly as possible. The early morning light filtered through the trees and I shivered slightly, pulling my jacket closer. Maybe sneaking away from the warm bed wasn't such a good idea. As the town faded away, I realized that I had reached the bridge. My body didn't seem to even think about going here. The wood seemed damp from the early morning moisture but the earthy scent relaxed me. I leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes, enjoying the scents and sounds that would forever remind me of the bridge. The lapping of the water against its side, the rustling of the wind in the trees, the far-off bird call, the sound of someone walking towards me....wait a second.  
  
"Ah, Hemingway girl." I opened my eyes to the familiar smirk. And a panicked feeling in my chest which was also becoming associated with the smirk. Whenever I saw him, it was like my chest contracted about four inches, but it was a nice sort of rush and I didn't mind it too much.  
  
"Diner guy." I countered. His amusement was evident in his eyes. They crinkled a little at the sides when he smiled at me and for some reason that made me happy.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he inquired. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back a little, enjoying the sun's warm rays on my face.  
  
"I'm sunbathing."  
  
"You look a little overdressed for it." I heard the wood creak and shift as he sat down next to me.  
  
"I'm worried about skin cancer." I opened one eye and looked at him with a smile. He shook his head and smirked. Did he ever do anything besides smirk?  
  
"You're a crazy one," he picked up my now empty coffee mug and looked in it. "Coffee?"  
  
"How else would I be forming coherent sentences at this god-awful hour?" He looked at me a little strangely and I realized how much I sounded like my mother. I quickly looked out to the water before he could read the panic in my eyes. He shifted a little but stayed where he was. The silence fell on us like a blanket, each expecting the other to break it.  
  
"So what are you doing here?" I smiled hopefully, trying to lure him into more conversation. He sighed a little and ran his fingers through his hair before leaning against a post and staring into the water.  
  
"This was the only part of the town that I ever really liked. It's," he seemed strained here and I almost wondered if he'd finish the sentence. "Peaceful. I have a lot of memories from here." He was still holding the coffee mug, running his fingers around the rim thoughtfully. He looked up at me and seemed to be studying my face. I looked away uncomfortably. I felt like he could read my thoughts. "You never told me your name."  
  
For some reason I thought of Luke and Lorelai, holding hands, a secret seal to the agreement that they would never tell me. To keep me on the outside, denying me of ever knowing him. And I felt anger. Why hadn't mom ever told me about him? Why hadn't they told me? I bit my lip a little before mustering up all the courage I had. This would probably be the dumbest thing I'd ever done in my life.  
  
"Holden." He looked at me for a moment and I could see the realization dawn on his face. But the realization was instantly replaced with panic and fear and he fumbled to stand up, muttering excuses about being late, loudly placing the mug back on the bridge and turning around to get away from me as quickly as possible. He was going to do it again. He was going to run out on me. I could feel hot tears prick at my eyes. I knew him now, even if it was just a little, and I didn't want him taken away from me again.  
  
"I know who you are!" I called impulsively. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly.  
  
"You do?" I nodded slowly and he sighed loudly in irritation. He looked at me for a second, shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked at me again. My head was bent low as I stared at my feet and my reflection.  
  
"It wasn't hard. I mean, we are almost exactly alike." I looked at him, in hope of finding some sympathy or understanding in his eyes. But his face was unreadable.  
  
"Not as alike as you'd think." He was turning around again. He was walking out on me again. Leaving me and my mom alone again.  
  
"You're right!" I called out at his retreating figure, the angry tears starting to fall. "I don't run out on my family!" He turned back to look at me for a moment. I was embarrassed by my tears and looked away. I heard him come closer again.  
  
"I couldn't be your father." He admitted quietly.  
  
"You could." I paused for a moment. "If you tried." 


	7. watch the warmth blow away

I always liked to read. Ever since the little squiggles and markings on pages became actual vowels and consonants, I was entranced by the ability they held to take me away. I explored many different outlets, the classic Jane Austen (spurred on by Paris) and Charlotte Bronte, the great satirists in F. Scott Fitzgerald and George Orwell, Steinbeck and Hemingway, Ayn Rand and Sylvia Plath. I drank in each word and filled my brain like a sponge. I would get antsy or nervous if I wasn't constantly working on some novel. When I was fifteen, I was roaming around the apartment, desperately trying to find something new to read. I had just spent my allowance on a tube of lipstick and a new black sweater after mom had taken mine and I wasn't quite willing to dip into my emergency funds, though I had saved enough so that it wouldn't take out a ton if I headed down to Collins' Second Hand Books. The oak book cases of the living room held nothing for me. Dusty old yearbooks from mom's high school years, back issues of the magazine that she wrote for, books I'd read a dozen times, ones that I had no interest in. As my fingers tapped lightly over the edges, I racked my brain for other places where I could find books. A flash of genius interrupted my quandary and I ran to mom's room where I had seen a box entitled "BOOKS" under her bed a few weeks ago while searching for my favorite boots after she'd worn them (again). I pulled out the box, pulling the top off and tossing it over my shoulder. The first book that I saw was "Oliver Twist". The musty pages smelled of age and use. Scribbled handwriting adorned the sides of the pages, making observations and insights into the characters. I stopped on a page which had a large paragraph highlighted:  
  
"'Will you return to this gang of robbers, and to this man, when a word can save you? What fascination is it that can take you back, and make you cling to wickedness and misery?' 'When ladies as young, and good, and beautiful as you are,' replied the girl steadily, 'give away your hearts, love will carry you all lengths-even such as you, who have home, friends, other admirers, everything, to fill them. When such as I, who have no certain roof but the coffin-lid, and no friend in sickness or death but the hospital nurse, set our rotten hearts on any man, and let him fill the place that has been a blank through all our wretched lives, who can hope to cure us? Pity us, lady-pity us for having only one feeling of the woman left and for having that turned, by a heavy judgment, from a comfort and a pride into a new means of violence and suffering.'"  
  
My breath caught a little in my throat as I read the delicate hand writing of my mother, the only part that she'd written in the entire book: "Loving someone no matter what. Loving till hurts, but loving anyway. Loving until it kills you. The story of my life."  
  
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The whole world seemed to speed up and slow down as I said those words. My brain didn't process yet what I had done. How I had said something I could never take back, how I was letting him in, the man who had chosen not to accept my mother and I. He smiled at me a little sadly and then slowly sat down beside me. I watched him lower himself to the damp and worn wood and thought again about how much older he looked but also how young. He looked like he shouldn't have a daughter, like he should only now just be thinking about kids, like he shouldn't have a seventeen year old. We sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments. Silences weren't awkward with Jess. It was almost like he was choosing for there to be silence and you were supposed to relax. I almost did.  
  
"Holden! Holden where are you?" My mother's voice rang out through the thickly wooded area and I froze. My jaw dropped slightly and my brown eyes widened. Recognition crossed Jess' features once more and I could see him stiffen before the panic set in.  
  
"I have to go," he said. I was listening so hard for the rustling of nearby branches to alert me of my mother's approach that his whisper seemed like a scream. I jumped a little and it took me a few seconds to realize that he was already halfway down the bridge.  
  
"Wait, what are you-" My words were cut off though as my mother's figure appeared at the end of the bridge, the ending of my name still on her lips. Her expression was a mirror of my own and I saw all three of us freeze. My eyes darted frantically from Jess to mom to Jess. They weren't moving, only staring into each other's eyes.  
  
"Jess," my mother almost breathed, her eyes flashing so many emotions, I could see them all, even from the distance. The hurt, the pain, the fear, the courage, but most of all, the love. "Holden, go back home. I'll be there in a minute." She didn't even look at me.  
  
"But mom, I want to-"  
  
"Go home." She cut me off suddenly and I could feel the anger rising up inside. How could she not tell me about him? How could she expect me to just go home and not be involved?  
  
"Mom, it's my life and he's part of it too, whether he wants to be or not!" They both looked at me, Jess almost looked like this was the first time he'd ever seen me. Mom just looked horrified that I wasn't doing as I was told. She pleaded to me silently not to press it but I was too mad to stop. "Mom, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you ever tell me where he was? Or why he left? Or when he left? Why can't you just let me know these things about my own life?" She looked away and I felt the stabs at my heart of guilt. I knew I'd hurt her but I needed to say it. She had kept me too naïve to my own father.  
  
"Holden," Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Please go home. We'll talk about this later."  
  
"No! Not later!" I almost yelled. I saw her flinch with the volume of my voice but I almost felt possessed, like I was going on a really angry auto- pilot. "I'm tired of never knowing who the hell my father was! I want to know and I won't be left out again!" It was only then that I noticed that her hands were shaking ever so slightly. I looked at her face, wiping away the angry tears that were threatening to fall, and noticed the scared expression. The air of youthful innocence and the complete bewilderment at the world around her that sometimes pervaded. And I wanted to cry, to kick, to scream, to hold her close and hug her till she couldn't breath, to shake her till she shouted at me to stop, to hit him with all my power, to hold onto him and never let him go.  
  
"Holden," She pleaded "Please go home. I promise we will talk about this later." And I saw the confusion. And I realized that she was going through the exact same thing I was. I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked quickly past them. The thickly wooded trees seemed to work as walls for their words to bounce off of. I had read somewhere in a science book that being around water amplified one's voice. My legs had collapsed from under me. I couldn't run anymore. And part of me was begging to stay.  
  
"Wh-what are you doing here?" Mom's soft voice cut through the air which seemed to hang around the bridge and the forest like a blanket.  
  
"I come back about once every three months to see Luke and Lorelai." He said it simply and without emotion and I felt my hate begin to rage inside of me. My mother was in pain talking to him and he was treating her mechanically.  
  
"I meant with Holden." I chanced a glance around the trunk to see where they were. Mom had her arms folded across her chest, an effort to look intimidating, But instead she looked like she was guarding her heart.  
  
"What? I'm not allowed to talk to our daughter?" I leaned my head back against the thick wood and closed my eyes. I could almost imagine the defensive look on his face.  
  
"You've never wanted to before." Her voice suddenly sounded quiet and small, like she'd regressed about eighteen years and was just a silly sixteen year old fighting with her boyfriend again.  
  
"Well, I didn't know who she was. I'm not exactly going up to all teenage girls and saying 'Hi, you're not my daughter are you?'"  
  
"Jess," Her voice had taken on a pleading tone. "Please don't do this. We've had a hard enough time going on without you and now..." Her voice trailed off momentarily and I almost wondered if she'd started crying. I sincerely hoped not. "Now that she knows you, she won't just be able to go back to the city and continue on."  
  
"Well, that's not my fault." I heard the boards creak and I knew he was sitting down, probably trying to tell mom to walk away. But mom wouldn't do it.  
  
"Yes, you know what? It is!" Mom's voice had become harsh and I straightened unconsciously. I'd never heard her talk like that. It was like there was a fire inside of her that was covering every word. And a part of me was applauding. "It's your fault that our, yes OUR, daughter buys father's day cards for LUKE, not you. It's your fault that I have to do everything on my own, and it's your fault that I sleep in a twin bed alone!" I could hear the hiccupping sobs as she cried and I stood up and began walking quietly back. She'd be mad that I hadn't gone home, sure, but she wouldn't be mad when I punched Jess square on the jaw and sent him flying back into the water. But just as I was about to make my presence known, I saw him stand up and pull her close. My breath died in my throat as I saw him stroke her hair gently as she sobbed into his shoulder. His words echoed in my heart as he muttered them in her hair.  
  
"I'm sorry Rory. God, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm so sorry." 


	8. So don't let the world bring you down

"There's a boy who fogs his world and now he's getting lazy  
  
There's no motivation and frustration makes him crazy  
  
He makes a plan to take a stand but always ends up sitting.  
  
Someone help him up or he's gonna end up quitting" - "Who Wrote Holden Caulfield" by Greenday  
  
I've only seen Lorelai drunk once. It was at my sixteenth birthday party. Mom and Lorelai had insisted on throwing me the biggest and greatest party ever. And even I had to admit they'd succeeded. Mom took me shopping, buying me the prettiest white dress I'd ever seen and then a tiara, fairy wings, a white feather boa, and enough make-up to paint the faces of the entire cirque du soleil group. The night of the party, it seemed like everyone in Stars Hollow had been invited. The gazebo was decorated with dozens of sparkling white lights and Luke had even MADE me a throne on which to sit (I can only imagine how much annoyance he had to suffer from Lorelai before caving in). Sookie outdid herself with food that even as I think about it now, makes my mouth water. Miss Patty presented her latest dance group, a clumsy group of six year old girls who still had dreams of being the next Marie Salle or Marie Camargo. Jackson had brought in a karaoke machine and Kirk even got up and did a very...um...unique rendition of "I Wanna Be A Supermodel". Between his pelvic thrusts and shimmies, I don't think anyone slept for about a week. All in all, it was the sixteenth birthday every girl dreams about. Even Grandma and Grandpa stopped by and seemed to enjoy themselves. Well, at least they did until a very drunken Bootsie tried to hit on Grandma. But by about three a.m. the party was still going, and mom and Lorelai were a bit tipsy themselves. Mom was still very much in control but I think my first clue of Lorelai's drunkenness was when she stole Luke's baseball cap and plaid flannel shirt and began proclaiming loudly that she was "Queen Backwards Baseball Cap: Mistress of All That Is Flannel." But about a half hour later, she was into her giggly drunken phase and she, mom, and I were all seated in the gazebo, watching the festivities and sharing a bottle of champagne. Lorelai had insisted on a bit of corruption for me and underage drinking was the only thing she and mom could agree on.  
  
"You know," Lorelai tried her hardest to look serious, despite the effects of the alcohol that were making her words slur together "Holden looks a lot like Jess." I snapped my head up. Lorelai had never said his name, much less MENTIONED him in front of mom. But Mom was too inebriated to care so she continued grinning idiotically.  
  
"I mean, she's got his color eyes, though they're the same shape as yours and your fair skin and pouty lips, but she's got his smirk! And she has his ears. All in all, she seems to have gotten the best of you both! You know, Rory, you're a lot like me." Lorelai erupted into giggles and mom joined in this time. I watched the two carefully, trying to find out what was happening.  
  
"I mean, Jess is like this mix of Christopher and Luke. On the one hand," Lorelai lifted up one of the hands she'd been leaning back on and almost fell over. After a few minutes more of giggling I almost gave up but she held up the hand and straightened herself a bit. "He's the father of your child and the first guy you've shared that life altering experience with. And I don't mean shoe shopping." This resulted in more titters from Lorelai and Mom. "But on the other, he's the guy that makes you smile, and makes you laugh, and makes you feel complete and real. He's the guy you're SUPPOSED to be with too. So he's like Christopher plus Luke! Chruke! Or Lukepher! Only less satanic sounding." As Lorelai continued on with her theory, I drew my knees to my chest in my "throne". A stubborn piece of hair refused to stay in back and so I let it hang a little in front of my eye. It blurred as I focused on the giggling forms in front of me. My tiara was lopsided and I rested my chin on my knees. Little did I know that Kirk had gone home for his camera a few minutes earlier and was snapping pictures left and right. He had somehow managed to remember to take the lens cap off and not stick his thumb in front of it. And somewhere in Lorelai's massive amounts of picture frames, there's a picture of me, huddled in my throne, in my immaculate white dress, almost glowing with the soft lights. Lorelai and Rory are laughing in front of me and while no one else has ever noticed it, if you look close enough, there's a bit of a sparkle near my left eye from the lone tear that I shed that night for my mother's perfect man.  
  
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I ran. I ran the entire way, weaving my way through the thick forest, almost knocking over a display in front of Doose's. I was too energized to even take the time to apologize to Taylor after he yelled after me that he'd just finished alphabetizing the fruit. The icy autumn air burned and stung in my lungs. I jumped over curbs, broke branches in my way, unable to stop my shoes from smacking the pavement in the even quick rhythm. As I turned into the walkway for the house, I finally let my knees give out and I tumbled onto the soft grass. Every single muscle in my body was buzzing and humming, trying to catch up to their heavy use after such a prolonged dormancy. And for the life of me, I couldn't remember why I'd run.  
  
Then it all came rushing back to me and I think my groan must have been so loud that it woke Lorelai. Bridge, shouting, tears, him, her, holding, crying, running. Broken down, that was my morning. It had seemed so simple this morning. Coffee at the bridge. Oh god, Coffee! I'd left the mug at the bridge! Oh geez, I hope mom picks it up. It was one of Lorelai's favorites. It proclaimed in pretty silver cursive that she was "Princess of The World". It's name is-what is it?-Sally? Jenny? Melanie? Stephanie! That's it! Oh great, I'm rambling. My mother and father have just had a shouting match on the bridge that ended with her in his arms and I'm thinking about Stephanie the coffee cup. I pulled my sore arms under my head and watched as the morning wind pushed the clouds lazily across the sky. The grass was still a little damp from dew. I'll probably have to shower again. I can't remember the last time I sweat this much.  
  
Time slipped away as I lay on the grass. I became vaguely aware that the neighborhood had begun waking up and I closed by eyes, letting the sun make patterns on the inside of my eyelids. Before long, I heard the creak of the front door and the thudding footsteps come to a quick halt.  
  
"Uh, Holden?" Luke's tentative voice sounded scratchy, like he'd just woken up. It was still much too early for Lorelai to be up and Luke was already on his way to open the diner. He walked down the steps, his shoes making a squishing and swishing noise in the grass as he walked. I felt the shadow over my body as he towered over my head and suddenly the sun's patterns disappeared. I opened my eyes. The whole world was tinted blue from the sun on my eyes and I blinked a few times to get it to go away.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I don't know if this is some regular teenage thing or what, but what are you doing lying out in the grass at 6:45 in the morning?"  
  
I gave Luke a lopsided smile and he seemed to relax a little. I shifted a little in the grass. Well, I guess they'd learn soon enough. And maybe this would be the best way to tell him. "I saw him." Well, whatever relaxation he'd had a few seconds ago was gone. His whole body stiffened and he sucked in a breath quickly.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"My father." I closed my eyes again. I didn't know why or where the calm tone of voice was coming from. I just lay there and I heard Luke walk away quickly. In a matter of moments, Lorelai's voice was calling to me to come inside. Luke always called Lorelai for the stuff he had no clue on. As I came into the kitchen Luke mumbled and grunted and slipped out the back door quickly. Girls confused him to no end. Lorelai's hair was still a mass of dark brown curls and she looked like she'd just woken up. No doubt she had.  
  
"Luke says you talked to him today." She started quietly. I looked away and focused on the cat clock on the wall. "Holden, don't freeze me out. You talked to him." This last part was more of a question than a statement. I got up from the table and paced back and forth a few times, choosing my next words carefully.  
  
"Were you going to tell me?" I looked at her pointedly and now it was her turn to avoid my eyes. "Were you ever going to say 'Holden, your father whom you haven't seen in seventeen years is here in Stars Hollow, conveniently staying in the room over the eating establishment that is both run by Luke AND the only place that any of us ever eat?'" My tone had become icier than I'd ever heard it and I surprised myself. My arms were folded across my chest and my weight shifted a little from foot to foot. Lorelai was staring at me, her blinking eyes the only sign of movement.  
  
"I didn't know how to tell you," she started softly. I turned my back and poured a cup of coffee, sitting down in front of her again, willing her to continue. "I didn't know how or if you would want to know and most of all, I didn't want your mother to know. You know her," Lorelai caught my eye and looked deliberately to the empty seat across from her. I thudded onto the cushioned wood and watched her with a mix of doubt andanger. "If she knew he was here, she'd be in that car on the way back to the apartment before I could explain. She would never trust me again. She wouldn't come back here to see me and," Lorelai sucked in a shaky breath and took my hand across the table with a small smile "she wouldn't bring you. It took her three years before she could stay here for more than a week without crying over him. To see him again, now, when she's going to be losing you to college soon, would be too much for her. And so she'd shut out Stars Hollow and so she'd shut me out. And someday, when you have kids of your own, you'll understand how much it hurts to be shut out." Lorelai's eyes had suddenly filled with unshed tears and I knew she was thinking about Grandma. Shutting out seemed to be a Gilmore tradition.  
  
"Lorelai," I started slowly. "By trying to keep things from me, you're shutting me out." She looked at me, her head slightly tilted to the right. "But I can't be mad at just you." I wrapped my arms around myself protectively, an instinct I've had since before I can remember. "I feel like everyone has been shutting me out from my own life. I had to find out about my dad from you. Mom can't talk about him. The whole town seems to act like I came from the stork literally and I have no father. I don't know anything about this man that people seem to think I'm just like." I had drawn my knees up and was resting my chin on them, hugging them to my chest. I kept my eyes straight ahead, staring out the kitchen door window into the green grass of the yard, the slightly shaded house across the street, the wide expanse of the blue sky beyond, and the rest of the world. It was strange, I felt like the pane of glass was the only thing keeping me from everyone else out there, the whole world where no one had to know about me or my name or my father. But there was something about the glass that I couldn't shatter. And so I watched the world keep turning without me. 


	9. Not everyone here is that fucked up and ...

A/N: thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! They really make my day (and help get chapters out faster). Keep them coming! I apologize for such a short chapter, but I needed to end it here.  
  
I have strange eyes. Anyone who has ever seen a picture of me has commented on my eyes. And while I suppose to some this would be a compliment, it only seems to add to the paradox of my genetic combinations. My mom has amazing blue eyes that seem to always be moving, even when they are still. They are the color of a cool lake on a summer's day with a warm breeze lightly skimming over the top, making them a constantly churning pool of perfect blue. And like water, they are clear as can be and you can see right through them into her heart. Her every thought, ever feeling is brought right to the top of the water and leaves her plain and open to the world. And so I've never been a rebellious teen who shouts and screams and hates her mother, claiming that her mom hates her. Because I see how my mom feels in her eyes. There's never been anything but love in her eyes for me, though sometimes mixed with disappointment or fear because of something stupid I've done. But more than just the color, the size of her eyes is what makes them the most attractive. For some, the eyes would be disproportionate to the face and would end up looking like a powerpuff girl. But mom, she has the perfect face for her eyes so she never looks anything less than beautiful.  
  
But Jess, his eyes are so different. They are dark and mysterious eyes that can't quite seem to choose whether to be green or brown. Cinnamon flecks and gold accent them lightly and only make them more beautiful. They don't always show emotion which to me seems fitting. He doesn't seem like a very emotional person. He seems like you'd have to work to get him to love you, that you'd have to be willing to be shut out again and again but once you were in, you were in for forever. And mom had made it in.  
  
Lorelai had told me that she thought she was doing the right thing by not telling me and eventually I realized that even I didn't know how I felt about it so I couldn't really be mad. I eventually told her what had happened exactly on the bridge.I don't think she breathed at all as I spoke. Eventually she had looked so lost and bewildered that I retreated to the bedroom to let her call Luke and tell him. He'd know what to say. He usually did with Lorelai. I lay on the bed in mom's old room; careful not to wrinkle the covers I'd just meticulously placed in order. Mom's sheets smelled of detergent and vanilla, a mix created by mom's cleaning habits and her body lotion. I always associate the scent with mom. Though usually coffee was in there somehow. While I contributed quite a bit myself to the complete and utter destruction and general mess of mom's room every time we came, I could usually only stand it for about three days before I needed to be able to see the floor again. This whole room hadn't changed, according to Lorelai, since she left for college. Lorelai claimed that she even wanted to put up a velvet rope and charge people so see the greatest kid in the world's room. And part of me liked that nothing had changed, that for mom there would always be at least one place in the world where everything would still be the same.  
  
Sometimes I find mom just sitting in here, staring at the ceiling. And I know what she's doing. She's thinking about what it was like to be seventeen again. To only be worrying about school and friends and a boyfriend. Not paying the bills, having a daughter, or writing a column. Mom had a lot of accomplishments for someone as young as her. She had had a child at eighteen and had raised her alone. And while I was never one to compliment myself openly, I had to say she'd done a good job. I didn't drink or do drugs, didn't smoke and had the top average in my class. Not to mention she could afford a great apartment in the city, could buy nice clothes and there was always food on the table (granted, I had a lot to do with getting the money turned into food). But, whether she admitted it to herself or not, she'd made another accomplishment at a young age and that was getting into dad's heart. I can only imagine the amount of frustration she felt sadness that she would feel when he shut her out. But she kept talking to him and stayed with him and he let her in. And I know this because I saw the way he looked at her and the way he talked to her. And just because I'm seventeen doesn't mean I'm stupid.  
  
"Rory," his voice came out faintly and I sat up quickly. The mid morning air had settled thickly in the room when I'd first come in after talking to Lorelai and I'd opened a window in hopes of a breeze but now I was glad for other reasons. "I'd like to see you again." He sounded apprehensive and I felt guilty for having intruded once again on something special between them. But I wondered what would happen, if this was going to really be like some sappy Disney movie and mom and dad would reunite. I strained to hear her response.  
  
"Oh Jess, I don't know..." I knew mom was just stalling. She'd have jumped in his arms if she was athletic enough.  
  
"Look, if this is about Holden, she doesn't have to know right away..." why was it that the automatic response of people was to shut me out? Maybe I should just shout "yeah brilliant one, she'll never suspect anything!"  
  
"No, I've hidden too much from my daughter already." One point for mom.  
  
"I guess you're right. But look Rory, I want to get to know her. Be her friend. And I'd like to be your friend too." I flopped back on the bed. The summer breeze lifted her response, and swept it into the room, whether I wanted to hear it or not.  
  
"All right, Jess."  
  
A/N: keep up the reviews! We're not done here yet, people! 


	10. Remember why you came and while you're a...

I wasn't much of an actress or much of a spotlight hog but somehow, I was onstage a lot. Sure, the grade-school matinees in the homemade costume and the bright shining faces of little kids who sing off-key were exhausted by the time I reached fifth grade. And even into junior high, I had had to participate in two drama productions. Once was to work off a minor infraction at school which is cliché, I know, but Jessica Ryans had taken a particular fight between us too far when she'd called me a filthy bastard. The sickening crunch as my fist met her nose had rung through my ears like cries of victory in a war. She had deserved it. I never stopped believing that and even mom seemed to sympathize with me a little on it, but that didn't stop me from being grounded for a month. The second time had been, surprisingly, of my own choice. After the mandatory participation, I had actually wanted to try out for the production of "Oliver Twist". It was my final year before high school and part of me said "just do it. You won't get another chance." So I did. And because of a surprising lack of talent in fellow participants (as well as an equally surprisingly lack of turn- out) I got a major role. It was the one play my mother cried at.  
  
Five minutes before the curtain went up, my mother and Lorelai had somehow forced their way backstage (too many incidents involving too many parents who tried to live vicariously through their children had left admission by parents backstage prohibited) to wish me luck. Lorelai had come in to run lines with me (and also for the shopping but helping with the play was a nice and innocent pretense and also the excuse she used to get past Luke). Lorelai, who was still laughing at my shabby attire (which the role had called for) had managed to breathe a little  
  
"I can't believe this! It's like a pre-pubescent 'Glen Not Glenda'!" Lorelai affectionately teased, which was an oxymoron in my opinion but then again, I was dressed as a boy and was in no current state to be correcting others.  
  
"Mom, you tried to tell Sookie that after you took those Lamaze classes with her and me when we were pregnant that her child should be called Lorelai."  
  
"I see no problems with this."  
  
"Mom, she had a boy. And you wouldn't shut up about her promise. It took some very spiked coffee and a lot of help from Luke and Jackson to keep Beck from becoming Lorelai."  
  
"It was bad enough he was named Beck. And besides, you gave this one," She pulled a little on my newsboy's cap "a boy's name." Mom rolled her eyes. Lorelai simply grinned that once again she had beaten mom down not with logic, but with sheer determination and an abundance of energy. "So tell me again why you're doing the gender switcheroo."  
  
"Because," I explained for what felt like the nine hundredth time "There weren't enough guys who tried out. And I said that I was fine playing a guy. Besides, I got a good part."  
  
The play had gone as much to plan as most plays do (which isn't very much but the curtain still rose and fell and most of the lines were right). By the final curtain call and my bow, I had been able to look out for mom from the stage. She was front row center with Lorelai and Luke, smiling and clapping, but with tears running down her cheeks. I had thought they were tears of joy or pride, but something tugged at me. Her eyes hadn't looked quite right. So I naturally went to the person who knew mom best.  
  
"Lorelai, why was mom crying? I know she was proud and all but she's never cried quite like that."  
  
"I think this play is a little too personal for her. Oliver Twist has always been one of her favorite books and I think it was a little hard for her to see her daughter as the Artful Dodger."  
  
"But why?"  
  
"Because it was like seeing your father all over again."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**~*  
  
If my sixteenth birthday was the party to end all parties, it was nothing in comparison to Lorelai's fiftieth birthday. The whole house had been making preparations probably since the day she hit forty-five. But as the make-shift countdown calendar (which had been lovingly made by Babette) got down to three days, the entire town seemed to erupt into chaos. Sookie, according to Jackson, had at one point locked herself in the kitchen at their house and refused to come out (or stop playing "Strawberry Fields Forever" which, as said by Sookie, was of vital importance when she was making her cakes) until the strawberry filling for some puff pastry tart thing was perfect. Perfection was not reached until about six o'clock the next day, a record breaking ten hours later. When Jackson had finally gotten admittance in (through the handy use of a screwdriver and some duct tape, though I'm not sure how this combination played out) he had found a sleeping Sookie and four dozen batches of her strawberry-filling filled puff pastry tart things.  
  
So I was not at all surprised when, while lounging on the sofa at the house, reading "Animal Farm" by George Orwell, the phone rang. Now it could be any number of people, ranging from Maury to the president (this was actually a logical option, based on the insanely large amount of people who seemed to be involved in this celebration) so I was partially relieved, partially disappointed when a very stressed out Lorelai had responded.  
  
"Holden? Oh thank god. Listen, you remember Beck? Sookie's son? He's about five months older than you? Reddish brown hair? Blue eyes?" I bit my lower lip as I thought, trying desperately to place a face with the name. Finally a firework went off in my head.  
  
"Yeah, I haven't seen him in a good four or five years." Suddenly I remembered who I was talking to. "Why?" I asked slowly, obviously dreading the coming answer.  
  
"Well, okay here's the deal. Sookie's going to be working late at the Inn tonight, Jackson's out of town at some tomato convention, which really I find quite amusing. Though it has prompted me to ponder why there is a convention devoted entirely to tomatoes and, more importantly, if there is a convention for every type of vegetable. Or maybe the tomato is super special and so it deserves its own convention. I bet the others are jealous. Perhaps there will be a vegetable mutiny! And what about the fruit?! I bet they're--"  
  
"Lorelai!" I practically shouted (which was what you had to do to get Lorelai off her rants) "Topic please."  
  
"Right, so anyway, Sookie's working late tonight since we've got taxes and more super fun stuff and Jackson's out of town and Sage is having a couple of her friends over for a sleep-over. And since no eighteen-year old boy should be left alone to face a group of giggling, girly, and usually annoying eleven year olds, I'm asking you to help him." I groaned inwardly. So much for relaxation.  
  
"Doesn't he have friends who can help him?"  
  
"He would like to keep these friends. That's why he's not asking them. Besides most of his friends are on the track team which is out of town this week at State Finals"  
  
"So instead the random girl he hasn't seen in five years will be filling in. Great. Okay I'll do it. What time do I have to be there?"  
  
"In half an hour." I considered trying once again to reach through the phone and possibly smacking Lorelai. This hadn't worked before but one must not give up hope.  
  
"You're really lucky, you know that right?"  
  
"No, I'm pretty. So good things always work out for pretty people." I could hear Lorelai's grin before she hung up  
  
Half an hour later, I found myself on the front porch of Sookie's house. And for the life of me, I couldn't produce a single reason why I shouldn't just turn on my heel and bolt. I mean, it's bad enough that I have to spend the whole evening with some guy I haven't seen in five years but it's even worse doing this all by myself. Mom was out with Jess, again, as was the usual routine. They had been spending more and more time together, taking me with them on several occasions. The whole outings actually made me feel normal. My reflections on a normal family were cut short suddenly by the door in front of me opening. And my heart stopping.  
  
"Hey! You're Holden right? Were you ringing the doorbell? That stupid thing has been broken for at least a month. Kirk always says he's going to fix it but I think the poor guy's too scared of electrocution to actually do anything. And we've just been kinda lazy about it. Anyway, you are Holden right? I mean, I'm not just telling all this to someone trying to sell me Girl Scout cookies, huh? Though the uniform has changed slightly since last I remembered." He smiled here as he looked me over and all I could do was nod mutely. Excellent. The whole mastery of the English language? Out the window. I self-consciously looked down at my jeans, and dark gray cable- knit jacket. When had this become such a bad idea?  
  
"Well come on in. I just ordered pizza for the girls and we're free to raid the fridge if you're not in the mood for pizza." As if on cue, a mass of high-pitched giggles filled the air. Beck winced a little. I had a feeling this was not the first time that had happened.  
  
"How many are there?" I looked nervously up the stairs. I was never very into sleep-overs and this one sounded like it was going to be long and high pitched.  
  
"Eight all together," He leaned down close to (he had probably about a seven inch height advantage on me) and whispered in my ear conspiratorially "We could take 'em." I was quite proud of myself for not melting into a puddle right then and there. He pulled back and grinned again. This was going to be one hell of a night.  
  
Four hours later I was very much remembering why I didn't go to very many sleep-overs. After meeting Sage, who was now a very mature eleven year-old (she wanted to know where I got my nail polish and what color my contacts were. When I told her I didn't wear contacts she just giggled and winked at me, saying something about beauty secrets. I nearly gagged), and all of her seven friends, the evening had been a mix of ice cream sundaes, fights over movies, and spilled blush and powder. After all crises had been taken care of, I sat on the wonderful plush sofa and closed my eyes. Why on earth did I agree? At that moment I felt another form flop onto the couch. A picture of a certain red-haired boy whom I'd been spending the whole evening secretly staring at filled my mind. Oh yes...that's why.....  
  
"Girls are weird." I opened my eyes at the sound of his voice. He was equally sprawled out on the sofa, one of his long legs peeking out from the other edge of the coffee table, the other along the length of the couch itself. His head was back, resting on the edge of the couch, his eyes closed as he savored the feel of rest to his exhausted muscles.  
  
"Boys aren't much better." I quipped, cocking one of my eyebrows as he opened one eye and smiled at me. He heaved himself up with a bit of a groan and settled on the couch once more, now closer to me. I tucked my knees to my side and tried to tell my hands to stop shaking.  
  
"At least boys don't do pedicures and manicures." He cocked his eyebrow, matching my doubting gaze.  
  
I shrugged and held out one of my hands, which had stopped shaking, at least noticeably shaking and studied it. The iridescent purple polish shimmered a little in the dim lights before it was engulfed by a pair of large calloused hands. So much for them shaking. He studied my fingers and I prayed that he wouldn't ask why I was shaking so much or why I suddenly couldn't quite take deep breaths but instead was now taking (hopefully not too audible) shallow, rapid, breaths.  
  
"Nice hands. Maybe we guys should do manicures too." He gave me a kind of lopsided smile and I hoped silently that I still had enough control over myself that I could make my face smile. A good smile. Not a "hi-I'm-crazily- in-love-with-you" smile or an "I-think-I'm-going-to-be-sick" smile. Both were valid points at this time. I kept waiting for him to release my hand but he didn't. My heart was hammering so loudly in my ears I thought either it would burst out of my chest or my eardrums would explode.  
  
"Your hands are really soft." His voice was lower now and I realized quickly how little space there had suddenly become between us. When had he moved over? When had I? Why was I still thinking when I could feel his warm breath on me? He smelled of soap. A nice clean, soapy smell. No cologne, no aftershave, just nice clean boy smell. I looked up from my own hands to his face and found him staring at me. While it seems weird to recount that now and have it not sound stalker-like, it filled me with a warm feeling and I found the tingle which his hand on mine was shooting up my arm and right to my chest was getting stronger.  
  
"Thanks" My voice came out in a shaky whisper as his blue eyes searched mine. I wanted to look away from his intense gaze but something kept me there and as I realized that the distance between our faces was lessening I was suddenly very grateful I hadn't bolted.  
  
Now it may seem strange to think that I didn't get my first real kiss till that night, but I just had never really had time for or wanted a guy in my life. But the second his lips touched mine, I realized that all the stuff Ash and Fiona had told me about their first kisses and their best kisses, was NOTHING in comparison. It was like my whole body was lit like a match and that burning feeling was the best thing in the world. I couldn't remember my own name, the only thing I could think about was him and me and this second. The blood roared in my ears, stars went off behind my eyes, and I felt like I was slowly melting but that was okay because I'd be the happiest puddle alive. As his hands slipped around my waist, I suddenly realized this was my first kiss and I had NO clue what the hell I was supposed to be doing. I tried to slip my arms around his neck and secretly did a dance of joy when this worked out. When we finally pulled apart (damn you oxygen for being necessary), my heart refused to calm down for even a second.  
  
"So, um," he looked rather nervous now, which made no sense to me. He'd just leaned over and kissed me and NOW he was nervous? "Can I see you again tomorrow, Holden?"  
  
I grinned a little "I'd like that, Beck."  
  
Maybe mom wasn't the only one getting a chance.  
  
A/N: Well, what do you think? Beck's gonna be playing a pretty important role in the development of the R/J and the R/J/H so don't be thinking I stuck him in for lack of ideas. Next chapter: the party. Send reviews. Or muskrats. More preferably reviews. 


	11. Do you think I should adhere to that pre...

A/N: Here's the chapter we've all been waiting for: LORELAI'S FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY BASH!  
  
"If you stare in the mirror long enough it distorts your image," I remember remarking once to my friend, Ash. She stopped what she was doing to look at me in open-mouthed confusion, a thick line of glittery purple lipstick stopped suddenly on her lips.  
  
"Holden, what are you talking about?" She still hadn't finished her lipstick and as of now, she only had a bottom lip and half a top lip, the rest seemed to blend in with her skin.  
  
"If you look in the mirror long enough," I returned to the mirror and looked at myself "Your face almost kind of distorts so you can't recognize who you're looking at. Pretty soon, you're looking into the face of a perfect stranger." She stared at me for a few more seconds before returning to her lipstick and muttering something about cutting down on my coffee. But I had just made a discovery and was hell-bent on not forgetting. Later that night, after the movies, I returned to my room. I lit a few candles and pulled out the photograph of my father that I had stolen from the box of pictures in Mom's room. The edges were worn and it was almost yellowed from use but I had been so careful to keep it immaculate. There were no tears, no water marks, and no indication that it had been touched since the day it was put in the box, save from the aging and wear at the sides. I placed it carefully at a side of the mirror before taking out a picture of Mom when she was sixteen and placing it at the opposite side. I began to stare again, re-memorizing every line, every dimple, every inch of my father's face. I glanced away at my reflection and studied my own. And slowly it formed. I saw bits of me, pieces of him, melded together into one form, one face staring back at me. I did the same with my mother's picture, watching as my face morphed into hers. Then I stared at them both, side by side and looked up at the mirror. My reflection did not distort at all. They both were there. Both were in my face. My cheeks reddened and tears began to fall, the shadows from the candle dancing across my now glistening cheeks. The two pictures were carefully hidden away once more as I snuffed out the candles. Perhaps the reflection wasn't distorted because I was distorted enough as it was.  
  
~*~  
  
I was awoken Friday morning by a loud screeching noise emanating from a second story window. It had seemed like such a good idea to sleep out under the stars last night, lying comfortably in the hammock with nothing but a pillow and a light blanket. The air had been unseasonably warm with the scent of honeysuckle (which Luke had planted to twine itself around the huppa from his and Lorelai's wedding) gently caressing the air. But when said screech shot through the air, I found myself flipped over, face down in the dirt, regretting deeply my moment of "outdoorsyness".  
  
"Mom! Are you okay?" I heard Mom's worried voice from the open window and lifted my head at the thumping of her footsteps as she raced upstairs to Lorelai's room that echoed in the yard.  
  
"I'm more than fine!" was Lorelai's enthusiastic response (which made me wonder just how hard I'd hit my head...Lorelai was never enthusiastic this early) "Darling, it's my birthday!" I rested my head back in the dirt, trying to stop the horrible headache from the fall. Oh this was definitely Lorelai's day.  
  
~*~  
  
The morning had proceeded almost normally. Lorelai, Mom, and I finished three pots of coffee and had spent a good half an hour just picking out what to wear. The ever-present tiara and Lorlelai's reminder ever five minutes that it was her birthday were the only indications that it was not just an average day. Also Luke had told Caesar to open up for him so he could stay a little later with his wife (though of course he said he was having stomach troubles just to keep up his gruff exterior). By ten, Luke had had enough of the caffeinated Gilmore girls and had escaped to the sanctuary of his diner. By eleven, Mom and Lorelai were playing the Bangles, giving an impromptu concert (to a not so pleased audience...sadly music was not in our blood). By noon, we were into the make-up phase, running around, proclaiming loudly the names of the lipsticks we had (which were of no use. I mean what color is a Vicious Trollop?) as we searched for the perfect eye shadow to make our eyes sparkle and shine and the lipstick that would make our lips irresistible. By three-thirty, I was seated on the couch, reading "Our Town", waiting for Mom and Lorelai to finish.  
  
"Uh Lorelai? Your party started half an hour ago!" I shouted without looking up from my page.  
  
"Well I have to make an entrance!"  
  
"Lorelai, it's your party. You're the guest of honor. You don't need an entrance." Lorelai made some noise that sounded suspiciously like "wise ass kid" followed sharply by an "Ow! You hit me!" directed at my mother, I assume. After another ten minutes, I heard the echo of their heels as they approached the top of the stairs.  
  
"Fine! Ahem! Announcing the beautiful, intriguing, intelligent, amazing, incredible, fabulous--"  
  
"Mom, if you keep up this introduction, we won't make it to the party."  
  
"Evil child, trying to steal my glory. Fine, the FABULOUSLY FIFTY LORELAI GILMORE!" Mom and Lorelai shot down the stairs and struck a pose at the bottom to the sound of my applause.  
  
"All right, Mini-Me and....even Minier Me? Let's go!" Lorelai grabbed me off the couch and pulled Mom and I out the door. Fifty and insane. This was one hell of a combination in Lorelai.  
  
~*~  
  
The party was worth it. Every single minute of stress, every second of making death threats to incompetent salespeople, every millisecond of weirdness all combined to the biggest party for Lorelai since her wedding to Luke. Everything Lorelai could have ever and would have ever wanted was there. The gazebo was decorated with pink streamers and sparkles, a band was playing "Hero Takes a Fall" by the Bangles, a wide dance floor with pink twinkling lights was set up in front, and Taylor was no doubt tied to a chair in someone's basement.  
  
"Ahh it feels so good to be queen!" Lorelai exclaimed loudly, seated in the same throne Luke had made for my birthday, though now with Luke in a folding chair at her side, trying very hard to conceal a smile for Lorelai, who looked radiant and the happiest I'd ever seen her. And why shouldn't she be, everyone was giving her gifts and telling her how she didn't look a day over 25.  
  
"She's drunk with power, isn't she?" A smooth voice came from behind Mom and I, causing us both to turn to see a smirking Jess leaning against a nearby tree trunk.  
  
"Wait till you see her when she's just drunk." I remarked, returning my gaze to the celebration before us.  
  
"Remind me to duck out before that happens." He sauntered over with his trademark swagger. He swung his arm lazily around Mom's waist and I saw her try to conceal the grin. She was the happiest I'd ever seen her when she was with him. Her eyes shone with a sparkle that I'd never seen before and I noticed that somehow she'd formed new dimples when she smiled that one smile she held when he was around. She looked sixteen again.  
  
"RORY!" A purple haired blur rushed her, making the two stumble backwards, hugging and laughing. Purple hair. That could only mean one person.  
  
"LANE!!!" Mom shouted back joyfully as the two hugged, jumping up and down, giggling loudly.  
  
"Hey!" Lorelai shouted "Keep it down over there, Mrs. Rygalski! You're taking attention away from me!" Lorelai grinned and waved. Lane waved back, motioning to Dave to come over and help her up as well. Dave had been, until this time, standing in the crowd, pretending not to know the purple haired girl who just attacked the guest of honor's daughter, though allowing himself at the same time to have a small proud smile on his face.  
  
"So how are you?" Lane grinned happily as Dave helped her up and then refused to release his arm.  
  
"I'm good," Mom smiled and accepted Jess' outstretched hand (and grinned as his arm returned to its previous position at her waist) "Lane, you remember Holden." I stepped forward a little now and was immediately grabbed into another whirlwind hug.  
  
"Ack! My godchild! How are you, Holden?" Lane held me at arm's length, still grinning insanely.  
  
"I'm great," Her smile was infectious and I found myself returning the grin. "Thanks for the recommendations of the Clash and Misfits albums. They were exactly what I wanted."  
  
"Well I had to make sure your mother wasn't completely poisoning your mind, filling it with hate for wonderful bands such as," she cast a sideways glance at Mom "Elliott Smith" Mom rolled her eyes and let out a strangled huff of resignation.  
  
"I was seventeen! I said that I didn't like his voice! I've grown to like it!" Lane burst out in a grin at her admission.  
  
"I always was the more mature one."  
  
"Really?" Dave asked, pulling his wife a little closer, "I seem to remember someone sending a page to Rory once. I believe it said 'bible kiss bible'?" Lane's jaw dropped as Jess and Rory held identical smirks.  
  
"YOU TOLD HIM?!" Lane reached out and swatted Mom lightly on the arm. I smiled a little to myself when Jess pulled her closer.  
  
"I was young and immature!" I rolled my eyes. This was going to take a while.  
  
"Holden!" I turned around, a smile already on my lips.  
  
"Hey Beck!" He jogged slowly next to me, subtly lacing his fingers with mine as soon as he was at my side.  
  
"Lane! Dave! When did you guys get here?" Beck's grin widened, as did Mom's when she saw where my left hand was. She raised her eyebrows at me expectantly and I mirrored the expression. Jess looked from Mom to me and settled on his "I have no idea what's going on but that's okay because I'm too cool to care" face. He used that a lot with Mom and Lorelai.  
  
"Just an hour ago. Had a few little last minute issues at the shop." Lane shrugged. After a year of her mother's dictator-like rule, even after she had graduated from college, Lane finally moved out of Stars Hollow and started her own music shop. And two years later, she told her mom that she hadn't actually opened a small religious bookstore. Three years later, she told her mom that she had married Dave four years ago. This was much less intimidating to her since Mrs. Kim had moved back to Korea as soon as Lane was out of college and the many many miles between them assured Lane that she was finally free.  
  
"Rory," Beck turned to Mom "Would it be okay if I stole Holden for a bit?" Mom smiled a little and Dave had to swat Lane lightly to stop her from making swoony faces behind his back.  
  
"I think that would be okay. But remember, Lorelai wants you two back here in time for the cake cutting ceremony and whatever else she has planned."  
  
"Probably a virgin sacrifice." Jess added dryly.  
  
~*~  
  
The woods were damp; the slight humidity that hung in the air seemed to be magnified as the light filtered through the trees in streams of golden yellow. The air smelled of cedar and moss, the music of the party filtered through the trees lightly with the occasional exclamation from Lorelai floating through the forest. I felt strange, almost dream like. A feeling of déjà vu swept over me, for no reason. The pale blue fabric of my dress swished lightly, clinging to my legs in the clammy air, my hair stuck to my neck and I hoped that my hand wouldn't sweat in his.  
  
"So why're we going to the bridge?" His voice seemed so much louder in the almost sanctuary-like silence and I was almost startled by it. He smiled at me gently and I had to remind myself how to walk.  
  
"Because it's pretty. Plus it will be quiet." As the bridge came into view I felt my stomach clench a little as flashes of what happened last time I was here appeared in my mind like a slide show. I steeled my resolve a little and let Beck lead me to the middle of the bridge then sit and lean me against his chest. We spent a few minutes in contemplative silence as I stared out at the water and Beck almost unconsciously played with a strand of my hair.  
  
"I like it here." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"Me too." I turned a little to look in his eyes.  
  
"I like you here." He grinned and I felt my lips curling up at the edges.  
  
"Me too." His eyes darted from my lips to my eyes again and I unconsciously licked my lips, letting my eyes slide closed. At first it was an almost ghost kiss, just barely his lips touching mine. It felt like a feather gliding across, but then it was a real kiss, with substance and before long all feeling of time and the world around me slipped away as my mind focused only on his lips and how nice his strong arms felt around my waist and how soft his hair was as I ran my fingers through it.  
  
"The bridge again?" And the spell was broken. I jerked away a little, my head snapping in the direction of the voices. Beck's eyes opened at the sudden loss of contact and looked too.  
  
"Yeah, I think it's the only place we won't be able to hear Lorelai." The voices were unmistakable.  
  
"Damn it, Beck it's my mom and Jess." I whispered desperately and tried to get to my feet. He nodded and helped me up before pulling me silently to the other end of the bridge.  
  
"Let's wait here." He whispered as we got a little into the forest. I sat on a fallen log and closed my eyes. Their voices rang clear in my head, even as I tried to tune them out.  
  
"So I was online last night. There are some really great bus fares into the city."  
  
"Oh," His voice almost sounded disappointed and scared. "I don't think I can come to see you any time soon, the store's business is really picking up." Jess had opened a combination book store and coffee shop, stocking it only with his favorites in books and music. It had done very well and Lorelai had laughed out loud at this, reminding him that he had once said he was never going to own a diner. The two had launched into a playful argument about how it wasn't really a diner.  
  
"Okay," Mom said slowly. I could almost imagine how she would try and not let her disappointment show. "Well, when do you think you'll be able to?" Beck looked at me nervously.  
  
"Maybe we should go-" He stood up and extended his hand to me.  
  
"No." I said quickly. "I mean, you can go back to the party, I'll be there in a second."  
  
"Are you sure?" I glanced anxiously back towards the bridge. I strained to hear their conversation, tersely nodding to Beck without even glancing at him. He kissed me softly on the cheek and I heard his footsteps as they crunched on a few twigs before melting into silence.  
  
"Rory, please, let's not start this. Not now"  
  
"Why not?" Mom demanded.  
  
"I just - I don't think I'll be coming to see you any time soon." Jess' words sounded like he had a megaphone to his mouth. My chest contracted with a sudden pain and I felt hot tears begin to spring up in my eyes.  
  
"Why not?" Mom said slowly, almost dangerously.  
  
"Because I've got the shop and you've got work and-"  
  
"What about Holden?" Jess stopped immediately and a few moments of tense silence filled the air. I stood up hesitantly, moving slowly to try and see the bridge. They were seated side by side on the bridge. The golden shadows of the sunset stretched far behind them as the sheer lavender veil of twilight was being draped across the sky.  
  
"She got along fine without me before..." Jess started and I heard Mom's snort of disgust.  
  
"Jess, you're her father! You can't just step in and out of her life like this!" Her voice was rising steadily, but not yet to the point of yelling.  
  
"I never said I was going to be her father. Look Rory, you don't understand. All I ever said was I would be her friend."  
  
"Jess, she has enough friends on her own. What she needs is a father. If it's so complicated let me simplify it for you: do you love us?" Mom's pointed question cut through the air and I almost expected for the band to stop playing "Pictures of You". But the soft lyrics still lilted through the trees and the question hung in the air like a guillotine.  
  
"It's not that easy, Rory." I could hear Mom let out a tiny choked sob and I heard Jess try to talk but she stopped him every time.  
  
"Okay Jess. Fine. But you know what? I still love you. And I probably always will. But now I get it. You don't love us. And that's your choice but you're missing out. You've got an incredible daughter. She's put up with not having a father and she's come out for the better. She's beautiful and she's smart and she has an incredible personality and is the nicest person I know and she's just the greatest thing on earth. You missed out on her first steps, her first words, and her first day of school. You missed out on everything but still I invited you back in. But you've turned it down once more. And that's your choice. And quite frankly, you screwed up." I heard her determined footsteps, as if she was putting emphasis on the fact that she was walking out on him now. He sat hunched over on the edge of the bridge for a while. The minutes slid by as the silvery moon dripped across the sky, spilling silvery glitter over the trees and his defeated form. I slipped away in the woods, trying hard not to cry. It was taking every ounce of willpower not to stab the back that had been turned on me for the final time. 


	12. And leave in my wake a trail of fear?

"I wonder if you'll ever come to realize what I always knew  
  
I wrote Holden Caulfield and so did you  
  
I wanna know if you wanna wake up  
  
I wanna know when you'll stop dying  
  
for what you've done  
  
stop crying for what you've done  
  
it's only the past  
  
it's only life  
  
what have you done that's so bad  
  
it's only life so don't waste time  
  
why don't you stop crying  
  
for what's done for what is done" -"I Wrote Holden Caulfield" by the Screeching Weasels  
  
He didn't come to the house anymore. This didn't surprise me after the fight between the two of them, but I thought that maybe he might come by to see me. I am his daughter, for God's sake. But then again, he hadn't ever visited us before. I was slowly getting back to the idea that it was the two of us again. Mom and I, against the world. Beck had been calling and trying to see me, but I couldn't talk to him. Not after all that had happened. So the stream of calls was beginning to trickle out like someone had turned off the tap on his hope in me. I was out at the bridge again. As much as I hated to admit it, I loved it there. I guess it was in the genes.  
  
"Holden?" Speak of the devil, literally. I didn't respond and continued throwing pebbles into the water. But he sat down next to me.  
  
"Haven't seen you in a while." He tried to get me to look at him but I refused.  
  
"Your choice." I replied flatly. I could see his shoulders tense slightly.  
  
"Holden, don't start. I-"  
  
"You hurt her, you know." I cut him off. I didn't want to hear his excuses for leaving my mother heart-broken and me without a father again.  
  
"Holden," he sighed irritably and ran his hand through his hair "This isn't easy for me."  
  
"Isn't easy for you? Having a daughter isn't easy for you? Having a FAMILY isn't easy for you? Well too damn bad! I'm here! I'm not going anywhere!" My voice echoed off the water, magnifying it even more as I shouted. He didn't stand up, didn't even try and look me straight in the eye.  
  
"It isn't as easy as that! I can't just come home with you and have us all be one big happy family! I can't do that!" He shouted back.  
  
"Well why not? Goddamn it, Jess! You're my FATHER!"  
  
"I can't be your father. I told you that in the beginning and I'm saying it again. I can not be your father." Jess said quietly. I felt my heart fall to the pit of my stomach. I wanted nothing more than to run right now. My feet felt like concrete and a part of me wished they were so that I could just fall through the bridge into the cold stabbing water and drown.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I'd just screw it all up." His voice had quieted, almost to a whisper. Storm clouds were beginning to roll in and the first peal of thunder reverberated across the sky. "I'd just make you as screwed up as I am. I'd break your mother and you and you'd be just as broken as I am. And I can't bear to do that..."  
  
"Jess! You ruined us by leaving! Why can't you see that!" I said louder. He wasn't even listening to me.  
  
"No I didn't! I did you both a favor by leaving! You don't even know what I'm talking about! You're only seventeen Holden!"  
  
"Jess! Don't you dare pull age on me because I'm only seventeen but I see everything you've done! Goddamn it I want nothing more than not to be related to you. I've got YOUR smirk, I have YOUR eyes, I have YOUR love of Hemingway, and I have YOUR GENES! I'm yours. You don't deserve to be called my father and I wish I had never called you "dad." And worst of all, I've got YOUR relationship issues! I can't have a boyfriend because I get scared and do you know why? Because of YOU! I can't stand to imagine what it would be like if I got as close to someone as my mom did to you and then he left. I see everyday what she goes through! I've got a FUCKIN' FRONT ROW SEAT! I have to watch her try to forget you with a new guy and then I have to watch her cry and I have to comfort her as she tries to figure out what went wrong. But I always know what did. He WASN'T YOU! I know you still love her. It's easy to see that. And she still loves you. So WHY can't you get your act together and DO SOMETHING! Don't you dare say that my mother is fine! You know just as well as I do that she's one of those people who, if you do something wrong, she won't tell you. You think 'oh she'll understand' and she says she will, but it eats her up inside. AND YOU'RE KILLING HER JESS!" I was standing now, screaming down at him, with tears streaming down my face. When I finished, my voice felt hoarse and raw and I was shaking. But I had said it. Seventeen years of anger and tears and loneliness have come out. My blood was pounding in my ears and I finally gave into my instincts and ran. I ran as far away from the bridge as I could and as far away from the man that was supposed to love me as my father. As I reached the town gazebo, the "gentle shower" had fallen into a full torrential downpour. My clothes were soaked and my vision was blurred, with eyes wet from tears from the sky and me. I pulled my defeated form into the gazebo, still shivering, and drew my knees to my chest, allowing my body to be racked with sobs, my cries unheard over the downpour and thunder. I rested my head on my knees and let the tears fall. 


	13. Should I hold my head up high And throw ...

A/N: Sorry this update took so long and is so short, but I promise the next will be faster!  
  
There were a lot of people who had given up hope. Countless people had adopted the theory that it would never happen. Hundreds who had thought they would never live to see the day. But those who did agreed it had been worth every minute of the wait. When Lorelai married Luke, it was like the town was getting married and everyone could finally release a long-held breath. After an official courtship of three months (the unofficial one had been going on for a little over twenty-one years), Luke proposed to Lorelai and the impossible happened. Grandma gloated for weeks about being right, Sookie almost had a heart attack, and Mom, well, Loreali says that she was the most enthusiastic out of all of them. In a simple ceremony (held in the diner, much to Grandma's chagrin) Luke and Lorelai put in words the silent vows that they'd long kept in their hearts. As the new husband and wife kissed, Miss Patty was heard to remark in a stage whisper "I can die a happy woman now."  
  
The reception was held in the gazebo with pink twinkling lights in the trees and a shiny dance floor set up in the middle and enough food to feed an army of gourmet chefs (catered, of course, by Sookie). The bridesmaids (Sookie, Lane, and, in a surprising twist, Paris) had looked beautiful in the dresses Lorelai had designed and sewn individually to flatter each girl, with a very special dress for her daughter and maid of honor. Mom still likes to look at my flower girl dress, which I had proudly worn at four. The reception went smoothly, even after the small fight Lorelai and Grandma had had over the first dance song (Lorelai had wanted Jimmy Buffett). By the time the pink lights were stanfing out prominently against the black-purple sky, the party was winding down. Some of the older guests had already slipped off to bed, the warm glow of the party still in their hearts. I remember vaguely sleeping in my mother's lap as she watched the dance floor from the sidelines. By the time the limo arrived to take Lorelai and Luke to their honeymoon, the silvery moon was dripping its light over a thinned crowd, of only the closest friends and family.  
  
"Okay ladies, I'm throwing the bouquet! Get ready!" Lorelai's excited voice had seemed amplified over the quiet hum of the crickets and the now softened music. The usual crowd of unmarried (and even a few married women) had crowded around her, ready to punch and shove their way to ensured marriage. Lorelai had wound up and flung the bouquet in a high arc, far above the reach of the women on the dance floor. Their eyes followed the hurtling bouquet until it landed almost comically on the ground next to Mom's feet. Mom had picked up the bouquet, gently fingering the silky petals of the roses, daisies, and lilies, scared look on her face as she looked to her mother for guidance. Lorelai had only given a wan smile as Luke slipped his hand in hers. Mom had looked at the bouquet contemplatively, and I remember the look of sadness and hope in her eyes.  
  
"What's wrong, Mommy?" I had asked in a whisper. The hushed crowd had now gone into a nervous small-talk, the expression on Mom's face had had a humbling affect on them.  
  
"Nothing, sweetheart," Her sugary-sweet smile hadn't fooled me, even then. The tears in her eyes, and the crack in her voice had betrayed her. "Nothing." She re-iterated, pulling me close to her again. "Just the one man I wanted to share this with," She gave the bouquet a little shake. "Isn't even here."  
  
It had been three months since we'd left Stars Hollow. School had started up once more and I hadn't told any of my friends about my last weeks of vacation. The apartment seemed to have lost its usual warmth and cheeriness and I felt like the echoes of my footsteps were magnified as they bounced off the plaster walls. Mom was going about her business as usual but she wasn't the same. Sometimes I foundher on the sofa, late at night, staring out the window. And when I'd ask her what was wrong, I'd see a flash of the pain inside. It wouldn't even last a second, but that time alone was enough to make me shudder. By the time Thanksgiving had come around, we didn't even talk about going to Stars Hollow. Lorelai and Luke offered to come in and Mom had graciously declined, claiming not to feel up to it. I knew how much that had hurt Lorelai but I also knew what seeing them would be like for mom. A week before Thanksgiving, we found a chocolate turkey on our doorstep. Mom said that probably it was the building's way of saying "Happy Thanksgiving!" but I pointed out that they had never done this before. Mom just shrugged and put it away.  
  
The day of Thanksgiving, we had gotten everything we needed. The market down the street had pre-stuffed turkey and I was more than happy to make the vegetables (that's right, Mom would eat veggies, as long as I gave her lots of chocolate afterwards). At six 'o' clock, we were about to sit down for dinner, when the doorbell rang. Mom had gotten up, mumbling something about 'yummy food' and 'justifiable homicide'. When I heard the door open, the simultaneously slam shut, I ran out to the hall.  
  
"Mom, what's wrong?" Her face had been drained of all color and her eyes were as wide as saucers.  
  
"Your father," she gulped. "Is outside." 


	14. I'm leaving the air behind me clear

A/N: Almost there, people. I'm pushing for 100 reviews and, I don't want to force you to review, but it's highly appreciated.  
  
Have you ever floated on your back in a pool? The water washes over you as your body balances perfectly and you feel like you're moving as the water drifts over you, the clouds move overhead and the sounds of the outside world are muted. But if you right yourself, you find that you're in exactly the same spot you were before. And that's what it was like for me when mom told me dad was outside. I don't know how long I sat in the chair staring at her but it was like the room was spinning around me, like those camera shots where they pan around the character's head to see the room around them. That was what was going on, except at a much faster and much more nauseating rate. It was like I was in the middle of a giant blender set on liquefy and I was about to hit the blades. After a few minutes of stuttering I finally managed a coherent sentence.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't know. I just slammed the door in his face."  
  
"Well we won't get any answers that way. Open the door."  
  
"No." Mom's voice was firm but I could hear the fear in her.  
  
"Mom, if you don't open the door, I will."  
  
"Holden, no. You are not going to talk to that man."  
  
"That man is my father and I want to know what the hell he is doing here."  
  
"Holden, I may be your best friend, but I'm still your mother and I am ordering you not to go near that door." I was already out of my seat and on my way towards the door when she said this. Her face was stern and I knew that she was not going to budge on this one. She was as stubborn as I was.  
  
"So we're just going to leave him out there?"  
  
"He's left us twice before. It's about time he knew the feeling." Her voice was cold and I wondered for a moment who the woman was standing in front of me. For the first time I saw her. She was a mother of a seventeen year old at thirty-four, unmarried and supporting us both. She had been left at seventeen by the man she truly loved and the father of her child. She had gone against the odds and graduated from her Ivy League college at the top of her class, sacrificing the normal college life for me and for our future. She was alone, with only her family and a few friends at her sides. She was unbreakable but fragile. She was alone but surrounded by family. She was all that I wanted to be and everything I didn't want. And as she stood in front of the door, blocking the handle from me I could see the fear and the sadness and all that she lived through everyday in her eyes. And I knew what I had to do.  
  
"Jess," I called loudly.  
  
"Holden?" His muffled voice came through the door and Mom glared at me.  
  
"Yeah. What are you doing here?"  
  
"It's Thanksgiving. Families should be together." I could hear his shrug and the look on his face.  
  
"But I thought you didn't want a family." Mom said scathingly. I almost expected her words to eat a hole in the door like acid.  
  
"Rory? Rory, open the door." His voice was pleading and I started to move towards the handle. Mom held up her hand and slipped the chain through the latch, letting the door open the two inches it would allow.  
  
"What do you want, Jess? You had your chance and you turned your back on it. Now you're here three months later and I don't want to do it again." She spat the words out as I stepped closer to her, trying to peer through the door. He looked hurt and I felt a twinge of sympathy.  
  
"I know, Rory. I fucked it up. I fucked up your second chance on me, just like I fucked up the first. But Rory, I can't stop thinking about you. When I left, I dulled the pain with cigarettes and alcohol until it was manageable, but Rory, nothing will help this time. I didn't even try the cigarettes or the beer because I had twice the pain now. Rory, I-"  
  
"Jess, just stop," I could hear Mom's voice break as she sniffed away some tears. "Jess, just go away. I can't take this. I can't do it again; I can't have my heart broken again."  
  
"But Rory, I promise you. I won't leave you. I won't leave Holden. I love you both. I want to be here, I want to be with you. I want to be in your life." The sincerity in his voice tugged at my heart. Mom sniffed again and squared her shoulders.  
  
"Jess, your promises aren't worth much around here." She closed the door before sliding down it and letting the tears fall, her arms pillowing her head as they rested on her knees. She sobbed openly for once in front of me, her whole body shaking as the tears consumed her. I knew Jess could hear her crying.  
  
"Rory," His voice was soft and low as it came from a spot on the door at her level. He was kneeling outside the door, his head close to where Mom's head was on the other side. Even without seeing each other he was right by her.  
  
"Go away, Jess." Silence hung in the air as Mom's sobs quieted and I heard the jingle of coins in his pocket as he began to walk away from the door.  
  
"Mom," I started softly, my arm around her shoulders. "This is the first time he's found us." She looked at me, her eyes rimmed red and her face blotchy from tears. I brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead and kissed it gently before removing the chain and slipping out the door. The hall was empty but I heard the elevator doors ding as they began to slide closed.  
  
"Jess!" I shouted, the doors were almost together, sealing him out of our life forever. I waited anxiously, my feet rooted to the spot. At the last second, a hand stuck between them, pulling them apart, followed swiftly by his face.  
  
"Holden?" He moved slowly toward me, almost as if he was scared I would hit him. I should have.  
  
"Jess, why are you here?"  
  
"Because I love your mom." He looked different from when I'd seen him three months ago. The way he looked as the streets of the city glowed against his face, illuminating the lines near his eyes, the slight stubble on his chin, but most of all, the emotion in the pools of brown.  
  
"Love isn't enough for her, Jess. She needs devotion. And she needs loyalty." I said firmly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box, flipping it open to reveal a small diamond engagement ring. He smiled a genuine smile at me.  
  
"Is that devotion enough?" I looked at him then back to the door. It was up to her now. I knew where I wanted him to be. It sounds strange to believe that I forgave him, to believe that I got over all the hurt he caused me and he caused my mom. But to see him standing there before me, vulnerable for the first time since I'd met him, it awakened something inside. Something like love for him. He was my father and he was a part of me whether I wanted him to be or not.  
  
"For me, it is. But I'm not the one you're proposing to." I motioned to the door and watched him move slowly towards it, watched as he went inside the apartment. And I waited. For once, I didn't spy, I didn't listen in. This was a private moment between the two of them. So I sat on the carpeting and leaned against the cool pane of glass, shadowed by the blazing lights of the cityscape behind me and waited. 


	15. So don't let the world bring you down

A/N: Okay, so I couldn't do it. I just couldn't bear to let this be the last chapter. There's a prologue in the works, but everyone, thanks for all the reviews.  
  
"I am not caused by my history--my parents, my childhood and development. These are mirrors in which I may catch glimpses of my image."--James Hillman  
  
I don't know how long I waited. I leaned my head against the glass, allowing my gaze to blur and the moving lights of the city to blur into dancing balls of multi-colored lights. I watched as my breath fogged the glass, and then dissipate into clear views once more. I heard the muffled cheers as people watched football in the nearby apartments and baby Jessica cry at the Walters' three door down from our apartment. But the light seemed to shine brightly on the brass numbers of apartment 17B. Still nothing. No movement, no tell-tale creak of the knob being opened. No sound. And I dimly wondered if mom was trying to get rid of the body.  
  
"I can do this," I muttered to myself. Behind that door, my life was changing. My life was going to be different, no matter the outcome. I was either going to have my real father back in my life or that chance would be gone for forever and I'd probably never see him again. I began chewing on my lower lip, a nervous habit I had, as I thought more and more about what it would be like to have a father. Did I want Jess as my father? He hadn't spoken to us for seventeen years, never once trying to find out how I was, or how Mom was. I'd never gotten a single birthday card or bought a father's day gift for him. He had only existed to me in stories, like some sort of fairy tale. The photographs in Mom's box were the only things that reminded me he was real. But even then, he seemed so far away. But then that one day, when I had seen him on the bus. It was like finding out that you weren't dreaming at all. But there was something inside, some hope that was refusing to die as it was kicked and beaten and proved wrong time and time again. And that hope said that maybe my life wouldn't have to be complicated for once. Maybe, just maybe, I could be happy. And my mom could be happy. And things could be simple. But simple was simply put out of the picture the second Jess rejected us again, so maybe I could just settle for slightly less complicated if Mom would let him back in. I blinked a few times, realizing that my eyes had slid out of focus once more, but was alarmed to feel a wet tear roll down my cheek as I blinked. Oh no, I couldn't cry. If I cried then that would seal my doom, that would mean that there was no chance for us and that would end it all. No crying, I steeled myself. No crying. My whole body seemed to jerk to the left as I heard the doorknob squeak.  
  
"Holden?" Mom's voice was soft and soothing, but interrupted by sniffing.  
  
I walked cautiously back towards the door. She gave me a little smile and hugged me to her. She smelled like lavender and leather, a combination I'd never experienced on her before. It was nice.  
  
"Holden, sit down please." Mom gestured towards the futon in the living room where Jess was already seated. Neither seemed to be looking me in the eye. Oh god, this was very bad.  
  
"Mom, you sound like we're at the doctor's office. What the hell is going on?" My voice sounded panicked and I looked anxiously back and forth between them.  
  
"Holden," Jess began. Oh no, that was a new tone of voice. I'd never heard that one before and not being able to tell what it meant wasn't helping to calm my nerves. "You've been through a lot the past few weeks. I've made an unannounced re-entry into your life, your mom and I have dated and broken up, and now-"  
  
"Fuck." I mumbled. This could not be good. And honestly, I was not up to another emotional draining at my parents' hands.  
  
"Holden!" Mom straightened up immediately and shot me a warning glare. I shrugged and looked at my shoes.  
  
"Look, Holden, your mom and I have talked. And we've come to the decision that-" My heart thudded loudly in my ears and I wondered if I'd be able to hear what he said next. The whole room seemed to go into slow motion and everything was amplified. Could hear the faucet dripping in the kitchen, the traffic on the street below, and my head was pounding. This was it. Prepare to have life flipped upside down. "this could and will work." My head shot up. Mom grinned and held up her left hand, which proudly displayed the ring. I looked from Jess and Mom, my mouth open in shock.  
  
"We're taking this slow though; we're not getting married for a while." Mom's grin showed that for them, slow would mean they'd be married by June. And Jess looked like that was fine with him. And that was when it all went black.  
  
When I came to, I found me head in someone's lap, while someone else was making coffee in the kitchen. The burps and grinds of our coffee maker resounded through the apartment and whoever it was, was smacking it to make it go faster. We needed a new coffee maker. I opened my eyes and then shut them again, the bright white of our ceiling shot daggers at my eyes. I groaned.  
  
"Holden?" I risked opening my eyes again and almost shut them again, convinced I was still dreaming. But then the memories came flooding back. Mom. Jess. Proposal. Family. Oy. With. The. Poodles. Already. "You alright? You scared us." Jess smiled a little, relief evident in his eyes.  
  
"Well that was my plan." I mumbled, trying to sit up. My headed was spinning and I rubbed it gingerly, already feeling a bruise forming there. "What happened? Someone hit me?" Jess smirked.  
  
"Does your mother often beat you?"  
  
"Yeah, with phone books and bags of sand. They don't leave any marks. It must have been you though, because I can feel a bump." I cocked an eyebrow at him and he just rolled his eyes at me.  
  
"You passed out and hit the floor. Your mom is making you some coffee." He shifted a little, obviously uncomfortable and I realized I'd been staring at him.  
  
"Jess, is this for real?"  
  
"I don't know. How many fingers am I holding up?" Jess held up two fingers, smirking. I swatted his hand away and tried to get him to be serious.  
  
"I mean this thing with you and my mom. Is this for real?" Jess looked frustrated and tired.  
  
"She's got the damn ring, doesn't she?" He snapped then immediately rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Sorry. I'm just a little on the edge. I haven't really proven that I deserve this third chance, have I?"  
  
"No, you haven't."  
  
"Thanks for the cushioning there, Holden." He said wryly. I could tell he was thinking, trying to figure out what to say to prove that he did deserve our forgiveness.  
  
"Jess?" A few more moments of silence, marred only by Mom's mutterings of death threats to the coffee maker, followed.  
  
"Look, Holden, your mom has done a lot for me. She loved me when no one else would, she gave me a chance, and she changed my life. She also gave me a beautiful daughter, who I never deserved. I never deserved either one of you." He tentatively put an arm around me and I eased into him, resting my head on his shoulder. "But I screwed up the first chance. And then the second chance came, like a miracle. But I got scared again, when I saw you two. Your mother was even more beautiful than I remembered, even more fantastic and even more special. And then you," He chuckled a little. "You were perfect. Beautiful like your mom, cynical like me, but innocent like her. You've got a real gift there, Holden. You look innocent and kind, and you are, but you don't take crap from anyone. Especially not me. You can deliver one hell of a punch, verbally." I could tell he was thinking about our fight on the bridge and I felt a dust of color form on my cheeks. "And I thought that I was doing the right thing by leaving you both again. I thought I could make life easier for myself and for you. And I knew you'd be mad, that you'd hate me for leaving you, but it'd be better for you in the long run. But I couldn't stand it. I went back to my old life, I went back to trying to pretend that I didn't love your mother and I didn't have a daughter. But I couldn't. that life was empty and hollow and lifeless. And I began to think that the least I could and should do, was to try. Try not to break you, try not to make you as screwed up as me. And then I began to think why I was screwed up, and I realized I'd turned into my own worst nightmare. I had abandoned you and the only woman I've ever loved. I had turned into my own parents. So I came out here with the ring I've had for seventeen years to give to your mom. And after we talked, and we yelled, and she cried, we got our acts together. And I'm staying. For forever." Jess finished shakily. We both looked up suddenly as the sound of clapping filled the air. Mom had been standing in the doorway the whole time, smiling. She moved to sit next to me and Jess extended his arm so that it was around her too. She looked happy, happier than she had in a while. She looked complete and Jess did too. I snuggled in between them. Jess softly kissed the top of my head and Mom did the same.  
  
"I love you, Mom. And-" I grinned. "I love you, Dad." They both smiled, genuine smiles, no pretenses, no hidden agendas. I had a mom. And finally, I had a dad. And for the first time, this apartment was feeling like a home. 


End file.
